Dumbledore's Offer
by Tickled Purple Monkey
Summary: The Golden Trio is ready to start looking for Voldemort's Horcruxes, but they weren't expecting Draco Malfoy to come along. Harry and Ron are annoyed that he's there, but Hermione finds that the pureblood has a nice side. Eventually DMHG. T for language.
1. Godric's Hollow Part I

Chapter 1: Godric's Hollow

"Anyone else we know died?" Ron asked Hermione tensely as she scanned the _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione didn't respond right away. She gave a soft hum as she turned the page and then put down the paper and said, "Not that we knew, necessarily," she paused. "But there's a Sandra Wood who's been killed…perhaps Oliver's mum?"

Harry shrugged at them from across the table. "Don't know, he never spoke of her that I recall."

Shrugging hopelessly, Hermione put down the paper and returned to her toast. "Thank you very much for the food, Mrs. Dursley," she told the blonde woman who stood in the doorway.

Petunia flushed and went back into the kitchen without responding. Ron snorted into his food and Hermione sniffed and ignored him. The Dursleys tried to ignore their presence in the house whenever possible, but they were frequently spied upon. Hermione always tried to be polite to them, but it was common for them to scurry away as soon as either of the three wizards paid attention to them. "When do you want to leave, Harry?" she asked him.

"In an hour," Harry replied. "We need to shower and pack up, since we're not coming back."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "I want to stop by Diagon Alley sometime to get more spellbooks for the three of us to use. And before we leave for good, you should go in to get your Apparition license, or this whole business may become very long indeed," she suggested before swallowing her juice in a single gulp. "I'm going to shower. See if you can get Ron to finish eating before I get out."

Harry suppressed a smile as she walked off. He stood and picked up her plate, stacking it onto his, and then took her glass as well and carried the pile into the kitchen. _The locket…the cup…the snake…something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's…_he thought as he rinsed the dishes. Those words had been going through his head all summer long. He dried his hands and stroked the locket that he wore around his neck. _I will do this, Dumbledore. For you, and for my parents, and for Sirius, and everyone else._

_R.A.B., who are you?_

As usual, that particular question remained unanswered as Harry went back to the table. Ron was still eating, but had slowed down considerably. "Ron, that's about your seventh piece of toast this morning. Aren't you done _yet_?" He asked.

Ron shoved the last bit of toast into his mouth and grinned at Harry. "Now I am," he said perkily. Harry couldn't help but grin back and picked up Ron's plate. This time when he went into the kitchen, Ron followed behind him. Even after living with the Dursleys for almost two weeks, he was still amazed with muggle technology. He toyed with the refrigerator as Harry rinsed the plate.

The sponge paused as Harry stared out the kitchen window. The past two months had been rather wild. Bill's recovery had been tedious for a while, but then he'd gotten better. His and Fleur's wedding had been a beautiful affair, with silver and red roses and veelas all over the place. Despite all that he'd said at school, Harry and Ginny had had a wonderful month and a half together. Then he, Ron, and Hermione had come back to live with the Dursleys for the last two weeks, to pack up all of Harry's things.

Plans were pretty much day-to-day things now. Today, the trio planned to pack up all their belongings into Hermione's car. They were visiting his parent's old house in Godric's Hollow. Harry had been itching to do this for a while, but there had been a lot to do, and it had gotten postponed frequently.

Frowning at the water running over his hands, Harry finally turned off the tap and put the plate aside. He didn't want to go to the Ministry to attain his Apparition License, particularly after turning down Scrimgeour yet again since Dumbledore's funeral. Hermione did have a point, though. Going places without the aid of Apparition would take a lot longer than necessary.

Sighing, he turned back to Ron. "C'mon, let's go start packing. Hermione will probably be out of the shower soon, so I'll go then, and you can go last, okay?"

Ron nodded, then looked at Harry slyly out of the corner of his eye. Attempting (and failing) nonchalance, he said, "Where did your cousin go?"

Harry concealed a smile and said, "I believe he spent the night at his friend's house. You scared him the other day. You can have your wand back once we get out of the house," he said.

"Not now?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Not now," Harry said firmly.

Ron's face fell, and he sulked all the way up the stairs. They walked into Harry's room, which had been housing the three of them for the past two weeks. Looking into it now, he realized just how small it was. "I can't believe we've all been living in this same room for so long," he muttered in amazement as he leaned down to pick up one of his old spellbooks.

"It wasn't that terrible," Ron reassured him. "But your bed is a bit small. It's too bad there wasn't more room to enlarge it." The first day they'd arrived, Hermione had enlarged the bed as much as could fit in the small room—which wasn't much. After that, the three of them had all just piled into it together, since there wasn't room for anyone to sleep on the floor either, and the Dursleys (for the most part) refused to acknowledge the presence of the two extra wizards. Hermione had tried to sleep on the downstairs couch, once, and it had resulted with a number of unpleasant things, most of which involved a lot of yelling.

Hermione came in then, her hair wet and temporarily tamed by the water. She looked around the room with dismay and wistfulness on her face and then grinned. "I guess we should get started," she declared and began picking things up off the floor and putting them in trunks. Harry turned to Ron with a shrug before going to shower.

Abruptly, Hermione turned and re-shrank the bed. Not wanting to seem unhelpful, Ron began stacking things on top of it. Noticing what he was doing, Hermione began taking things off the bed and packing them away. "How's Ginny taking it?" she asked after a while.

"She's fine," Ron assured her.

"You still don't know anything about girls, do you?" Hermione told him softly with a laugh. "Even Harry could see that she's not fine. She's in love with him." She paused in packing and looked over at Ron tentatively.

Ron hadn't noticed her gaze and snorted at her assertion. "I don't think so," he declared.

"She is," Hermione insisted. But the chance to catch Ron's eye was passed and she turned back to her work.

The silence grew tight between them. "Ginny wanted very much to come with us, you know," Hermione said. "She would rather fight at Harry's side than sit and hope that he comes back to her. The way she sees it, it's not fair that Harry is letting us come and making her stay."

"She's my little sister. She couldn't come with us."

Hermione pursed her lips and didn't respond. She liked Ron a lot, but he annoyed her when he said things like this. Harry emerged from the bathroom shortly, and Ron gathered what he needed and left.

"Harry?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?" he said, tossing a pair of socks into a trunk.

"Do you think R.A.B. destroyed the locket?" Hermione asked. With a faint, satisfied smile she closed the second of her two trunks (one was completely full of books, and the second was much smaller and had clothes) and locked it.

Harry paused in his packing. "I don't know," he said honestly. He stared at a shirt pensively and then tossed it into his trunk with a shrug. "We're going to have to presume that he hasn't. Finding that may be even harder than finding everything else. At the very least, we know where the snake is. Then there's the cup, and something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's. We don't know where either of them are, but we can at least assume they're in the places he originally left them. The locket, though, if it still exists as a Horcrux, has been moved around, and without knowing who R.A.B. is, there's no way to know where it could be."

Hermione frowned as the thought and finished packing up Ron's trunk. The room was beginning to look bare. She picked up the last of Harry's stuff off the floor and put it on the bed for him, and then did a thorough check of the room to be sure no one had forgotten anything.

"I think that's all of it," she murmured, just as Ron walked in.

"Are we ready?" the redhead asked.

"I think so," Hermione said, satisfaction ringing in her voice. She waved her wand over their four trunks and shrank them all to a manageable size. "Those _should _fit in my trunk now," she said tentatively. "If they don't, then one will have to go in the backseat."

"Let's go," Harry said. "You can have your wand back now, Ron," he said, drawing said wand and handing it to the redhead.

* * *

As Hermione had predicted, the four trunks did fit in the trunk of her car. It had been a bit of a squeeze, but they made it. She had somehow produced directions to Godric's Hollow, and had Harry read them to her from the front seat. Ron sat in the back, gasping in awe and amazement at the muggle world.

For lunch, they stopped at McDonalds. Ron was so excited by this new feature of the muggle world that he got out of the car to talk to the man in the window. For a moment, Hermione and Harry were so shocked that they didn't move, and then Harry sprang out of the car after him, apologizing to the man profusely as he shoved Ron back into the car. Hermione had just smiled wanly and ordered their meal.

After over five hours of driving, however, even Ron was getting bored of the trip. "How much longer?" he whined from the backseat. Hermione sighed and exchanged a glance with Harry.

In response, Harry shrugged and then said, "At least another hour. Try getting some sleep, Ron."

Ron did quiet down at that, and before long Hermione adjusted the rearview mirror to see that he was asleep. "You can sleep too, Harry. I think I can handle it from here. Though we'll probably need Ron's help once we reach the general wizarding area. I'm not sure if it's acceptable to drive a car down the street."

Harry nodded and patted Hermione's shoulder in gratitude before leaning against his window. He slowly drifted off to sleep, trusting Hermione's good sense to get them to their destination.

The car ride grew lengthy and tiresome for Hermione all alone. But looking at Harry beside her, so calm and undisturbed by Voldemort (for the moment), and then at Ron in the back, snoring softly like a child, with his red hair falling over his closed eyes, made her almost burst with contentment. Her best friend beside her and her long-time crush in the back, both trusting her to get them where they needed to be in a single piece. Hermione couldn't help but smile as she drove.

* * *

Hermione looked up into the rearview mirror to see Ron in the backseat. "Ron?" she said quietly, hoping he would wake up but knew he wouldn't. She really didn't want to wake up Harry, he hardly ever got such peaceful moments, but if she couldn't wake Ron up quietly, she might have to. "Ron?" she asked again, a little louder.

The boy in question continued to snore. Hermione frowned and sighed, then let go of the wheel with her left hand and squeezed Ron's shoulder. "Ron," she said, sharply but softly.

"What do you want?" Ron grumbled loudly.

Hermione shot a worried glance to Harry in the seat beside her. He appeared to still be sleeping. "Ron, wake up," she said calmly.

"Why?" For an instant, she thought he was going to go back to sleep. But then he shot up in his seat. "Are we there yet?" he asked eagerly.

Harry moaned and shifted in his sleep. Hermione paused, then whispered, "Hush, Ron. I wanted to know if it's all right to drive a car in a wizarding neighborhood."

The redhead pulled a face. "You woke me up for _that_?"

The scowl on Hermione's face might have frightened him, if he'd been able to see it. "Yes, I woke you up for _that._ We're almost there, I just wasn't sure. And isn't there…or shouldn't there be _some _type of barrier to keep muggles out?"

"I don't _know,_" Ron groaned. "You're the one who's supposed to know everything."

Hermione's scowl deepened and she pulled over the car. "Try not to wake up Harry, I'll be back in a few minutes, I promise. And if anyone, and I mean _anyone _comes by, _do _wake up Harry and have him handle it. And don't move from this spot," she warned before stepping out onto the side of the road. After looking around furtively, she Disapparated with a _pop_!

The landing platform at the Ministry of Magic was slightly crowded, and Hermione stepped off hurriedly to leave room for other Apparating folk. She made a beeline for the elevator. It was packed full, and she tapped her foot nervously while waiting for it to stop on level six, where the Department of Magical Transportation was located.

The secretary was chewing Droobles Best Blowing Gum in an annoyed fashion as Hermione asked her for more specific directions to Godric's Hollow. The woman primped her blonde hair and took her time looking through the file cabinet for the answer. Finally, she told Hermione that she would need to go through a particular post office, and she could enter Godric's Hollow from there. Politeness forced Hermione to thank the woman, but she was gone immediately after the words were spoken.

Standing upon the Apparition platform, Hermione hoped beyond hope that nothing had happened to Harry and Ron. She'd left them out there longer than she had meant to—not that she was given a choice in the matter. With a short sigh, she pulled her wand in case memories needed to be erased and Apparated back to her car.

Mercifully, it appeared nothing had happened in her absence. Harry was still asleep, and Ron was even asleep again in the back. Rolling her eyes at this, Hermione clambered back into the car and looked over the directions again before continuing the trip.

The rest of the drive was only about ten minutes. Just after she passed the plain "Welcome to Godric's Hollow" sign, Hermione kept her eyes open for the post office. When she saw it, she had to do a double-take. The post office Hermione had been directed to was ramshackle and decaying. Faded blue paint flaked away to reveal slashes of the wood beneath. She parked the car in front of it and got out to stretch. The boys woke easily, and soon the three of them were standing in front of the decrepit post office. "Are you guys ready?" Hermione asked breathlessly, feeling suddenly giddy.

"Let's go," Harry said, with a lustful light in his eyes. They all walked in, and Hermione stopped at the counter to gain the access code. Just like at Diagon Alley, where there was a certain pattern of bricks you had to tap with your wand, there was a system of admission here. In this particular place, you had to tap certain cobblestones with your feet to be granted entrance. After learning the steps from a dreary-looking lady who turned out to be very energetic, Hermione, Harry, and Ron went out in the back to try it out.

In fact, they all failed miserably at the dance, but had a good laugh about it. At long last, it was Ron who managed to get it correct. Just as they were passing through the door that had materialized in the side of the post office, Hermione glanced back and caught a glimpse of the dreary woman, her face lit up with amusement at the their antics.

Hermione grinned and waved as she followed her friends into the wizarding part of Godric's Hollow, which was only a tiny part of the small town.

The small road they walked out onto was framed with trees. All told, there were about four huge, old oak trees on both sides, and in between each was a small, cozy cottage. Wildflowers sprouted at random intervals across the landscape, filled in between with lush grasses. Hermione examined the first house approvingly, and then turned to the one across with appreciation. "Which one, Harry?" she asked in a hushed tone.

But Harry was looking around with just as much interest and admiration as she was. "I don't know," he answered back quietly. The three of them sauntered down the lane, pausing and looking at each house in turn.

They stopped outside the last house on their left. There were only two cottages they hadn't looked at yet—the one straight across from the one they stood in front of, and the one in front of which the street ended. "It's this one," Harry announced in an awed tone. "I know it."

Hermione looked over the small house. This one stood out because instead of the usual, artificial colors of the other houses (whites, soft yellows, faint blues and others), the outer surface was wood, and polished so it shone a rich mahogany color. The window shutters, doorframe, and gutters were done in deep ebony that contrasted with the mahogany. Roses sprawled up one side of the house, accompanied by ivy and the bursts of wildflowers that Hermione had grown to associate with all houses here. The grass here was even more overgrown than the rest of the village, but not so much that it was entirely unruly.

Harry was halfway up the drive with Ron before Hermione even thought to follow them. The former hesitated at the doorway, and then finally knocked. There was no answer, so Harry tried the knob. The door swung open easily at his touch, and the trio paused in the doorway. Harry made to step in when Hermione grabbed his arm. "Hello?" she called, "Is anyone home?"

When there was no answer, she turned and shrugged at him. Harry led them into the house.

There was a layer of dust over everything, and a faint, acidic taste of stale magic hung in the air, as if the anti-dust charm had not been replaced in a long while. Hermione paused, looking around at the furniture. In here, everything was perfectly in order. There was beautiful wooden furniture, a pretty loveseat by the window (which you could not see out of for the roses). The fireplace was intricately carved, and even had a few semi-burnt logs upon it.

They passed into the next room.

Utter destruction met their eyes.

A piano was overturned, its keys broken and spilled onto the floor. The small, thick dinner table was cracked and tilted eerily on a broken leg. Of the four chairs accompanying the table, one was nothing but a shower of splinters covering everything, another two were damaged badly, while one sat alone, overturned but in otherwise good condition, in a corner. A china cabinet was overturned, the fragile pieces under its guard shattered all over the floor.

Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder to comfort him, but he was already gone into the next room.

This room was not as badly ruined as the other had been. The pieces of a cradle were scattered across the room, a couch was broken in two, and while a few books were on the floor, a magnificent bookcase was perfectly intact. Hermione itched to look and see what books were there, but followed Harry when he moved on.

The last room downstairs was the kitchen, which appeared to be just as it had been left. "I guess no one's lived here in a while," Ron murmured softly.

"Probably not since Voldemort killed my parents," Harry said, "It looks like no one cleaned up after my father fought him." He led them back into the room with the bookcase. "Let's go upstairs." He took a step, but then Hermione noticed something. She whipped out her wand and snatched Harry's arm with a warning grip. Meeting his eyes, she pointed to the stairs.

A solitary set of footprints marked the way to the second level of the house.

"I was wondering if you'd have the brains to notice," said a familiar drawl. Draco Malfoy stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them with a smirk plastered onto his face.

Hermione opened her mouth to snap at him, but Harry got there first. "What are you doing here?"

"I should think that was fairly obvious," Malfoy grimaced. When no one said anything, he added, "I was waiting for you." Ron's mouth dropped open, and Hermione wished very dearly to kick him and tell him not to express any emotion. "Actually, I've been waiting so long I was worried I had missed you. I should've known you would've come on Potter's birthday." He sneered at them.

With a furious start, Harry drew his wand and prepared to perform a spell. "I would like to point out that I am unarmed," Malfoy said calmly.

Hermione forced Harry's wand arm down and said, "_Expelliarmus!_"

There was nothing, no wand, nothing at all. "And where's your backup?" Harry said nastily.

Malfoy flinched, paled, and then said, "So you _were_ there. That's what I needed to know." With a heavy sigh and a carefully blank face, he sat down on the top step. "Scrimgeour was always complaining about how you were Dumbledore's man through and through. I need to know, will you uphold his offer to me?"

Harry stood there dumbly. Hermione looked at the blond boy at the top of the stairs in fascination. Ron stopped gaping to scoff, "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Dumbledore offered him and his mum protection from Voldemort." Harry swallowed audibly and Hermione scrutinized Malfoy's countenance carefully. "Said to come over to the right side," Harry continued, "and that if he did, he would give them protection, hide them more completely than he could possibly imagine."

"He did," Malfoy confirmed. He stared determinedly at his hands as he asked again, "Will you uphold his offer to me?"

"How do we know you're not trying to trick us?" Hermione asked faintly. "I mean, this could all be one big joke. You sitting here, stalling us while all your Death Eater friends are on their way." He flinched at her comment, deepening her suspicions.

"How can I prove it?" Malfoy asked, finally looking up from his hands at the three of them. "Tell me, and I'll do it! Just, please, save my mum, and my dad when he gets out of Azkaban. I don't care what you do with me. Save them, though."

"You want to turn to our side?" Harry asked, to make sure. Malfoy looked at them in desperation and nodded.

Hermione hesitated, and then walked up the stairs slowly. As she approached, he put his head down again. Standing a few steps down from where he sat so they were roughly even in height, she ordered, "Look at me." Malfoy didn't even bother to sneer at her as he looked up. His face was pale (paler than usual) and drawn; he had dark purple circles under his eyes, and his eyes themselves were filled to the brim with despair.

She kept her expression carefully neutral as she turned to go back to Harry and Ron, even though her suspicions had been confirmed. "I think he's telling the truth," she whispered.

Ron didn't bother to lower his voice as he said, "You want to trust _that _bastard? After all he's done to us, all he's done to _you_, you want to trust him?" He seemed completely shocked by her.

"Obviously he's desperate if he's coming to us," she argued quietly. "And I didn't say I wanted to trust him, just that I thought he was telling the truth."

"It's the same thing!" Ron yelled.

"No, it's not," Hermione countered. "But the decision is really up to Harry." She turned to the boy in question, barring her first point from debate.

"What if you're wrong?" Harry said. He was still struggling with all of this information. Malfoy, wanting to be on their side? Impossible. Could it really be happening right here? Hermione seemed to think so. She was usually correct about things, but there were times when she was wrong. Did he really want to take this chance based upon her with so much riding on this decision? Was this really as big of an event as he seemed to think it was?

"If I'm wrong…then he will have to deal with me. And we all know I can best him with just about any spell."

A thought hit Harry. "Do you think you could do what you did for the D.A. the other year? With the paper with the jinx on it so we'd know. You could do that again, right? But maybe with multiple conditions that would alert us if he did something?"

Hermione bit her lip in thought and then her face relaxed. "I can do that. It'll be like a contract…legally binding. All we need to do is agree on the stipulations." She paused. "He'd have to stay with us, though, so that we could keep an eye on him…"

"No way," Ron cut in, shaking his head violently. Hermione was amazed at how quiet he'd been this whole time. "Malfoy is _not_ staying with us."

Harry didn't seem very perturbed by this, but Hermione shook her head slowly. "We can't, not now. Harry, you told us that Dumbledore said he hadn't come to Malfoy about his…mission before because if Voldemort could use his Legilimency and find out that Dumbledore suspected him. If he used it and found out that we had this conversation…" Hermione paused, biting her lip. "He'd kill Malfoy. Or at the very least, torture him."

"So? _Some people_," at this, Ron threw a dirty look at Malfoy. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the boy to see he'd hunched down even farther on the step. She glared at Ron, but he was already talking again, and she doubted if he was paying attention to her. "Deserve to die," he finished.

"Stop being so overdramatic, Ron," she snapped. "Not even Malfoy deserves to die. He didn't even _do _anything this time." Turning back to Harry, whose decision it ultimately was, she said, "What are we going to do?"

Harry met her eyes, then Ron's, and last turned to the blond sitting at the top of the stairs. "Fine. I'll do it. But we have to get this over with quickly, I have things to do."

Malfoy looked up from the knees of his robes. "Really?" he said in disbelief. Hermione nodded her head reassuringly. "Thank you," he said quietly, and with true gratitude in his voice. Harry blinked, obviously not expecting such courtesy, particularly from Malfoy.

"But you have to sign a contract," Harry warned.

"Get my mum to safety first, and I'll sign any bloody contract you hand me," Malfoy said.

"Done."

* * *

_I'm so far gone now,  
I've been running on empty_

—The Used, "Lunacy Fringe"


	2. The Contract

A/N: As a disclaimer, I know nothing of pounds or what a fair hotel rate would be in England. So please bear with me, and if anyone has any suggestions I'd love to hear them (just put it in a review)! Oh, and anyone who wants to read the contract in full, it is posted on my profile.

Chapter 2: The Contract

"I'm not sitting next to him," Ron declared when they were back at the car.

Hermione felt like slapping him. She closed her eyes for a second to get her temper under control and finally turned to Harry. He wouldn't look at her either, seeming to agree with Ron's sentiments. "You two are bloody ridiculous," she grumbled. "Malfoy, you can sit up front with me."

"Up…front…" the blond repeated. "What exactly is this thing?"

Hermione couldn't believe what he was asking. "It's a car. You don't know what a car is?" Malfoy shook his head. "Well…it's like…it's like a train, but this size, and less…private," she told him. "Pull on the handle, and the door will open. Get in." He did, jumping when the door swung open.

Before getting in, Hermione laid her head on the top of the car. "This is hopeless," she muttered quietly before getting in. Her two best friends refused to acknowledge that Malfoy was there, except to be childish, and he was completely clueless about muggle contraptions. "Now, you see that strap over your shoulder? You buckle the silver part into this thing," she tapped the latch. He followed her directions.

Hermione turned to the boys in the backseat. "Where are we going now?" she asked.

Ron widened his eyes as if this question was completely unexpected. Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "In fact, I don't really care. Somewhere quiet where we can sit down and work out this contract. A place where we can stay a few days. In fact, we're going to need to get in touch with the Order. Think their headquarters are still where they used to be?"

Hermione frowned. "How do you not know? You own the place and told…him…that they all could use it."

"Right. Okay then. Someplace close to that, so I can…" Harry's face folded with sadness.

"It's okay, Harry. If you don't want to go I will. Or if you just want company you can take Ron," she offered.

Harry smiled at her grimly. "No. I think this is something I have to do." Hermione nodded understandingly. He hadn't gone back there since Sirius had died.

"What about me?" Ron piped up.

"I'm sure we can find something for you to do, Ron," Hermione told him and then turned to the front. She buckled up and started the car.

The drive was less than three hours, but it felt like more. Ron was asleep again in the backseat, while Harry brooded out the window. Malfoy said nothing the whole way but looked at everything with wide eyes. Occasionally she would point out something and explain it to him, but still he said nothing and eventually Hermione turned on the radio to keep her company, since no one else would.

At length they stopped in front of an average-looking hotel. "Wait in the car, I'll see if they have rooms for us," Hermione said.

The inside was clean, if not elegant, which made Hermione glad. She walked over to the man behind the desk. "Hello," she said pleasantly.

"Hullo. Did you need something?"

"Yes, I did. I was wondering what your rates were."

"How many beds and how big a room?"

Hermione paused and thought. They had magic with them, after all, so they could easily change the rooms to be more fitting. "A regular room, with only one bed."

"Seventy pounds a night, then," he said.

"Do you have two rooms available?"

"Yes we do, miss. For how long would you be planning on staying?"

"Three nights," she said. "Will that be a problem?"

"Not at all."

Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "Now I have a really big favor to ask you. You see, I really like one of my friends, but he's a bit of a snob. So I was planning on sharing a room with him in the hopes that maybe I could win him over. But when he comes in here, he'll ask for a third room for him to sleep in." She tried to look as pathetic and sad as possible. "So if you could please tell my friends that you only have those two rooms available…?"

The man looked uncertain. "Miss, I really don't…"

Hermione trembled her lower lip and tried to make her eyes to fill with tears. They didn't, but it would seem she had managed to look pathetic enough. "All right, but don't be asking for any more favors, please, miss."

"Thank you so much, sir," she said shakily. Once her back was turned on him she allowed herself a victorious smirk before heading outside.

The boys were, needless to say, aghast. "I am _not _staying with him," Ron said immediately.

"I insist on speaking with this man," Malfoy demanded. "I will _not _be sharing a room with anyone."

Harry looked at Hermione curiously, as if he knew what she'd done. "Malfoy, maybe you should pick whom you share a room with," he said slyly.

The look on Draco Malfoy's face was priceless. It was a mixture of shock and disgust and horror, and under normal circumstances Hermione would have found it amusing. Then he sneered. "Joy, I get to pick between bloody hero Potter, the cheap Weasel who probably can't _afford _his own room, and mudblood _Granger._" He actually shivered in disgust, which made Hermione want to slap him. Instead she folded her arms over her chest.

"Can we go somewhere else?" Malfoy said at last.

Hermione shook her head. "Not if you want us to make arrangements for your mum."

"Bugger. I pick Granger then."

Hermione scowled, giving Harry a dark look as she opened the trunk of her car and pulled out their luggage. "Wait…Malfoy, you don't have any bags?" she asked.

"Of course I do. There is such a thing as a shrinking charm," he snapped.

She rolled her eyes and opened up her trunk of books, selecting a few and putting them in her other trunk. The hood clicked down and Hermione made sure the car was locked before they headed inside.

Predictably, the first thing out of Malfoy's mouth was "Are you sure you don't have another room?"

Hermione looked pleadingly at the man and he swallowed. "No, sir. No other rooms, only got the two left, see."

"Bloody hell. You're _sure._ None of your other customers have suddenly dropped dead and left another room open?" Malfoy said hopefully.

The poor man's eyes opened wide. "I most certainly hope not, sir. That would be awful for business."

Malfoy sneered. "_Indeed._ Fine, we'll take your two bloody rooms. Perhaps I can get Granger to sleep with the other two. How much did you say the room was?"

"Se—Seventy pounds, sir."

"Pounds?"

Hermione pushed Malfoy out of the way. "I'll pay for our room," she said, pulling out her wallet and handing over the money.

"You will not, I can pay for myself," he said indignantly.

"Malfoy, you currently have the wrong type of currency. When you get the correct currency, I will allow you to pay me back for your half of the room. Until then, you _will _allow me to pay so that you don't make a fool of yourself," she said.

He scowled, but acceded. Hermione's heart was pounding and she didn't let herself have the victory. The man behind the counter handed over the keys, leaning close to Hermione as he did. "I'd steer clear of that one, if I were you. He's trouble."

"Thank you for your concern, but I've got a handle on him," she replied, glancing behind her shoulder at Malfoy. He was leaning against the wall with an air of disdain.

Hermione waited for Harry and Ron to be done paying for their room and then the four of them trooped to the elevator. She almost expected Ron and Malfoy to say something but then remembered that there was an elevator in the Ministry of Magic.

Their rooms were on the second floor, and right next to one another. Ron and Malfoy went into their respective rooms, but Harry caught Hermione's eye and they lingered in the hall. "What are we going to do with Malfoy tomorrow?"

"There's only one bed!" Malfoy screeched incredulously. "Bloody hell. _Granger, you're sleeping on the floor,_" he called.

Hermione sniggered at Malfoy, then turned her attention back to Harry. "I don't know," Hermione answered truthfully. "Someone has to stay back to keep an eye on him, and I'm _not _going to leave Ron alone with Malfoy."

"Why is there only one bed?" Ron complained from inside Harry's room. Harry grinned at Hermione, then sobered. "You don't trust him?"

"No more than I'd trust Voldemort," Hermione whispered back. "Well, maybe a bit more than that. But not much. I'll trust him a lot more once we've got that stupid contract done with."

"Can't we just say we've got it all arranged with his mum and then make the contract and get his mum to safety afterward?"

Hermione frowned, then shook her head decisively. "No. We uphold our part of the bargain and he will uphold his. Are you taking Ron with you tomorrow?"

"I don't know yet. I almost want to go alone, but he'd be glad to see his family again, and I don't want to make you have to watch both of them."

"Okay. Well, wake me up in the morning with whatever you've decided. It sounds like I'm staying here. Malfoy and I will work on terms while you're gone, and you and Ron can check over it afterward."

"All right. Thanks for everything, Hermione," Harry said. "Goodnight." He went into his room and began to shut the door.

"Oh, Harry! Just so you know, you can use a doubling spell to make a second bed. I tried to get us cheaper rooms by only having one bed in each, figuring that we could always alter it. If you have any trouble, come get me."

Harry nodded and closed the door. Hermione went into her own room, where Malfoy was lounging on the bed. "Look, Granger. One bed. You can sleep on the floor."

"How kind of you," she said sarcastically, then pulled her wand out. She made sure there was room for a second bed, and then said, "_Gemino bed_!"

The bed beneath Malfoy wiggled. He jumped up and off of it as it stretched to double its regular size and then broke into two. Hermione grinned in satisfaction, then pushed the beds apart. Malfoy stood up and brushed himself off, giving her a disgruntled and annoyed look before he stretched out on his bed once again.

Hermione ruffled through her trunk and pulled out her pajamas. She changed in the bathroom, and then brushed her teeth and went out to find Malfoy in the same position he had been in earlier. "Aren't you going to get ready for bed?" she asked, pulling her current book out of her trunk to read.

Malfoy shrugged and then got off his bed. He opened his trunk, which was at the foot of his bed by now, and pulled out a pair of pajama pants. Without even going into the bathroom, he stripped off his clothing down to his boxers and then pulled on the pants over them. Hermione tried not to stare, but she was completely appalled by his actions. "There is a bathroom, you know," she said, peeved. She tried desperately to not look at his Dark Mark.

"What, go in there right after you? I don't think so, you probably got germs all over the place."

Hermione clenched her jaw but refused to rise to the bait. Instead she turned to her book and forcibly immersed herself in it. Malfoy laughed, but she paid him no mind, even when he tried to say something.

The light disappeared. Hermione blinked in the darkness, then groped around for her bookmark. "Malfoy, what the hell did you do?"

"I told you, I'm ready for bed, so it's time to sleep now."

"I was reading," she said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, but I told you _two times._ You should be thankful I told you at all. It's not _my _fault you weren't listening to me," he said as petulantly as a child.

Hermione took a few deep breaths and then put her book down on the floor beside her bed. "Fine. Good night, Malfoy. And I hope the bedbugs bite you all night long."

He was silent, for which she was thankful. Just as she was falling asleep, she heard him ask, "Will you really keep my mum safe?"

The seriousness of it broke Hermione's heart. "We will, Malfoy. I promise you. Harry's going to go and talk to some people tomorrow about taking her into hiding."

She closed her eyes on the darkness, but then Malfoy made her open them again when he asked, "There were more rooms, weren't there?"

Hermione's mind raced, but then she decided it would be better just to tell him the truth. "Yes. But we don't trust you in your own room right now. After the contract has been dealt with you can be free to have your own room and even to come and go. But right now…"

"You don't trust me. I get it. I've given you very little reason to. Good night, Granger."

She heard him roll around in his bed, but didn't manage to sleep until after she'd heard his soft snores in the dark.

--

"Hermione!" Someone was pounding at the door. She groggily rolled over and nearly fell out of bed. Blinking, she realized that the blinds shut out any light whatsoever. She almost made to open them, but the knocking was so insistent that she grumbled and staggered across the room.

Hermione stubbed her toe on Malfoy's trunk and cursed. "Don't touch my stuff, Granger," he snapped from his bed.

"Whatever, Malfoy," she responded, finally making it over to the door. She swung it wide. "_Yes?_" she growled. And then, "Oh, Harry, it's just you."

"Sorry for waking you, but it's almost ten, and Ron and I were about to leave now," he said, looking at her uncertainly.

Hermione's eyes were wide. "_Ten? _How could I possibly have slept that long? Urgh!" She calmed down a bit and rubbed her eyes. "Okay. So you're taking Ron with you?"

"Yeah. But…Hermione, do you think you could point us in the right direction."

"Sure, Harry, sure. Just give me a minute." She tottered back into her room, giving Malfoy's trunk a large enough berth that she hit her hip on the dresser instead. When Hermione returned to the door she held a street map. "We are…here," she said, pointing. "And where you want to be is…" Hermione looked at the map closely, squinting. "Somewhere in this area here. So just follow the map in between."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said.

Hermione smiled. "No problem. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to shower."

Harry nodded and waved at her before disappearing into his own room. Hermione turned on the shower and took it hotter than she usually did, mostly for the sake of waking up.

Malfoy was asleep again by the time she came out. At this, Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't, in fact, mind. She opened the blinds a little bit and took out a roll of parchment to begin working.

"Shut the damn light off," Malfoy grumbled after a while.

Hermione raised an eyebrow that he couldn't see. "That's the sun, Malfoy," she responded tartly. "I don't think anyone shuts _that _off. It's almost eleven, so wake up. We have a contract to write."

"Why don't you write the bloody thing and I'll sign it once my mother's safe," he said, pulling the blankets over his head.

Hermione frowned. "You really don't care what's in this contract?"

"Not particularly."

Shaking her head, Hermione went back to her paper. Near noon, Hermione threw back the blinds all the way. Malfoy spluttered into wakefulness. "What the bloody hell do you think you're _doing_?" he growled. He tried to glare at her, too, but the sun was bright enough that he was blinking rapidly to make his eyes adjust. Hermione couldn't help but laugh about it a bit.

"Waking you up. I drew up a contract, and I want you to look it over before the boys see it."

"Don't need to," he said. "_Now turn the bloody light off._"

"Malfoy, for all you know I could have written down that if you don't walk around naked your hair will turn blue."

He looked at her with wide eyes and then gave her a murderous look. "You _wouldn't._"

"I'm just pointing out that it's a good idea to look over a contract before you sign it," she said.

"Fine, fine, I'll look over your damn contract." He sat up in bed and looked at her expectantly.

Hermione went back to her bed and sat with her back against the wall and began to read. "In exchange for the safekeeping and hiding of Narcissa Malfoy, and Lucius Malfoy when he is free from Azkaban, the terms are thus. I, Draco Malfoy, promise to not meet with Lord Voldemort unless under the express permission of Hermione Granger or Harry Potter. I will not communicate with any Death Eaters—"

"What about my father and my mum?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"My parents," he said through clenched teeth. "Am I not allowed to speak to them as well?"

"They're _both _Death Eaters?" she asked, amazed.

"Yes."

Hermione frowned over the paper, the looked up at him. "I'm sorry. I don't think I can do that. To do this I was keying it into whoever wears the Dark Mark, and I'm not sure I can make any exceptions."

"_Damn you, Granger!_" Malfoy snarled, jumping out of bed. Hermione thought he was mad at her, but then he ran his fingers through his hair and she realized he was just upset.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. You can still speak to her and write to her before you sign. And if you want, you can dictate letters to me for her and I'll send them off for you."

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you?" he snapped.

"Malfoy, I really am sorry. If I knew another way, I would do it so you could still communicate with your parents, but I really don't know. You must remember that I'm just as old as you, with just as much schooling. Sure, I may have read a lot, but I don't write contracts every bloody day. I don't know the absolute _best _ways to get them to do what I want them to!" she growled, beginning to get angry. This wasn't_ her_ fault.

The blond looked at her for a long minute and then lay back down on his bed. He clasped his hands in front of him and said, "Continue."

Flustered, Hermione continued to read. "I will not communicate with any Death Eaters. If I do either of the aforementioned things, my fingernails will turn black."

"_What?_"

Hermione looked up calmly. "Your fingernails will turn black. You know how girls paint their nails. I didn't want to do something as blatant as with Marietta Edgecombe, but something that you wouldn't be able to hide easily either."

Malfoy seethed but did not question her. Hermione went on. "Furthermore, I will not speak to anyone about what Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter are doing. If I do this, I will lose my eyesight." Malfoy's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. Hermione was grateful. "I will not go beyond three kilometers of either Hermione Granger or Harry Potter, nor will I try to undo any of the punishments inflicted upon me for breaking this contract. For breaking either of these rules, the only thing I will be able to say is "I'm sorry"."

Hermione smiled and Malfoy snorted. "Fat chance of that," he said. "Anything else?"

"I will only allow Hermione Granger to undo any of the punishments put upon me for breaking any part of this contract. Lastly, only Harry Potter or Hermione Granger can declare this contract null and void," she finished. "And that's it."

"Your punishments are stupid," he told her before getting under his blankets again.

"Once you sign this you won't be able to undo them, no matter how stupid they are," she said. "Anyway, I wanted them to be noticeable, if not all of them hinder some."

Malfoy shrugged and was already asleep again. Hermione frowned down at the contract in her hands and then pulled out her wand to do the spells. When she was done, she pulled the curtains mostly closed, leaving only enough light for her to see her book through.

--

"Why am I only mentioned once in here?" Ron asked.

"Do you really want Malfoy bound to within three kilometers of you?" Hermione asked.

"Why can't I give him permission to deal with Voldemort, though?" he asked.

"Ron, you haven't wanted anything to do with him since he came along for this trip, so why are you complaining now?" she snapped. She knew he was jealous, and just wanted him to stop complaining.

Ron scowled and sulked, but Hermione ignored him and turned to Harry. "Does that sound good to you?" she asked.

He perused it again. "I don't think you missed anything. Sounds good to me. Now we just have to wait for the Order to get Malfoy's mum, and we'll sign it."

--

The next morning, there was a pounding at the door. Hermione was careful of both Malfoy's trunk and the dresser this time and pulled the door open. "What now, Harry?" she asked.

But it wasn't Harry outside her door.

Mad-Eye Moody sauntered in, dragging Narcissa Malfoy. Even being pulled along obviously against her will she managed to look dignified. "Got the Malfoy you asked for," he said.

"Oh. Thanks—"

Hermione was cut off by a shriek from Narcissa. "Draco! Draco, are you all right? Did they do anything to you?"

"Mum?" he said groggily.

"You won't believe what they did to me! Somehow _that one_"—she gestured at Moody still standing in the doorway—"snuck into our Manor in the middle of the night and pulled me out of bed. Did all sorts of magic so I couldn't get away or alert anyone else." She turned to glare at Moody.

"Thanks, Moody. Harry and Ron are just next door, if you want to get them."

He looked around the room then walked out. Hermione hung around in the doorway while Malfoy talked to his mum.

"But how could you?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I had to, mum. They promised to keep you safe. I know…" Malfoy paused, and Hermione was ashamed of herself for eavesdropping, but she couldn't help it. "I know you wanted me to follow in you and father's footsteps, being a Death Eater and all, but… he offered to keep you and Lucius safe, which is something the Dark Lord could never promise me."

Narcissa slapped her son. "How dare you speak so of him. After all he's done for you." Her voice was quiet, deathly.

Malfoy looked at her sadly, shaking his head. Moody entered with Harry and Ron, and his eyes turned to them. "Will you keep her safe?" he demanded.

Moody nodded reluctantly. "You may…she may try to run away to the Dark Lord again, so you might want to put spells on wherever she's staying."

"Draco!" Narcissa hissed at him. Moody walked up and pulled her to her feet.

"Don't make her a prisoner, though," Malfoy implored. "Set her up nice, just make sure she stays there. It might be good to have a secret-keeper…"

"Harry already talked to us about this," Moody informed him.

Malfoy stood up and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Please be happy, mum. You know I hate to see you sad."

Narcissa scowled but wrapped her arms around her son. "You're a disgrace, but I suppose your heart is in the right place," she said grudgingly. "Will your father be joining me?"

"Once he's out of Azkaban," Malfoy promised, looking at Moody. Mad-Eye nodded at him, and Malfoy seemed satisfied.

"Love you, mum. Oh, and if you write to me, address it to Granger here, and she'll give it to me. Part of a bloody contract I'm signing," he said.

"Yes, dear. Goodbye, Draco."

"Goodbye, mum."

Hermione stood back to let Moody and Narcissa pass. Moody gave Harry a nod in passing and he muttered a "thank you."

Hermione went to the dresser, where she'd left the contract. She looked over it once last time and then handed it to Malfoy, along with a quill. "You sign first."

He gave her an unreadable look and then leaned over to sign the parchment on his nightstand. Hermione signed under him, and then Harry signed last.

--

_If you want to  
I can save you  
I can take you away from here_

--Michelle Branch, "All You Wanted"


	3. Nighttime Happenings

A/N: School started for me a couple of weeks ago, which is why I haven't updated. I'll update as often as I can, but water polo takes up mounds of my time and what little free time I have is spent doing homework. Not quite as many reviews for the first couple chapters as I would have liked, but DO is on more alert lists than I have reviews, so I guess that's something. Love.

Chapter 3: Nighttime Happenings

Ron was sulking about the contract over dinner that night, and Hermione was thoroughly fed up with it. "Ron, stop that," she hissed after a while.

He feigned deafness and looked to Harry. "Are we going to go to the Ministry tomorrow?" the redhead asked.

Harry looked uncomfortable and shrugged. "Harry, I know you don't want to go," Hermione said, "but we really need to get you an Apparition License."

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I guess we'll go tomorrow, then. It's not like it'll get any better the longer we wait."

Hermione smiled at him and took another bite of her spaghetti. "I'm going to need to stop somewhere to get more money, too. My parents gave me a lot of money for this trip, and I have loads of money from working the past three summers, but I didn't take out much of it. It would also be a good idea to get Malfoy some muggle pounds so that he can go out without us," she said.

"Malfoy" seemed to be the magic word for Ron. He scowled and began attacking his pasta. Hermione waited for him to speak. Faithful to her expectations, Ron muttered, "I still can't believe I'm on the contract only once. And I didn't even need to sign!" He stuffed his mouth with food and nearly choked.

"Ron," Hermione said calmly. "Ron!" she said more firmly when he didn't respond to her first call. His behavior was giving her a headache, and he still wasn't looking at her. Well, that was fine by her because she was through with being calm and patient. When she next spoke her voice was harsh. "_This _is the reason I didn't give you any power over him in the contract. You are unpredictable, hot-headed and rash. You do things without thinking, and while that's fine sometimes, I'm not going to let Malfoy piss you off and have you nullify the contract out of anger."

She stood to leave and Ron exploded. He hopped out his chair, causing it to crash to the floor loudly. "I wouldn't do that, Hermione! I wouldn't ever." Ron was shaking with his anger and seemed to be at a complete loss of words beyond what he'd just said.

"Then act like it," she snapped and turned to leave.

Ron reached out after her and grabbed her arm, his grip astonishingly tender. "Hermione, I wouldn't, you must know that," he said in almost a whisper.

For an instant she thought he would kiss her, but when he just stood there looking at her pleadingly she sighed. It took all of her willpower to not snatch him up in a comforting hug, but she held back and said, "I can't change it, Ron."

"Fine," he sighed. "Please don't leave."

Hermione looked back at their dinners on the table, mostly finished, and then thought of Malfoy back in their hotel room, with his insults. "Okay."

Ron picked up his chair and sat down in it, his face red as only a Weasley's could be. Hermione hesitated, and then sat back down in her chair as well. Talk was sparse, and somewhat terse, but even so, it was comforting to sit with her two best friends.

They traveled back to the hotel in near dark and went to their respective rooms. Hermione opened her door to find that the light was on, but Malfoy was asleep on his bed. She shut the door quietly and got ready for bed. Just as she was about to switch off the light, the blond boy gave a start and shot up in bed. "Who—oh, it's you, Granger," he said, calming down. "Turn off the light, it's bedtime."

"But you were just asleep," she said in amazement. Hermione hadn't ever met anyone who slept as much as Malfoy did, excepting perhaps a cat or two. He seemed to be awake only about five hours of the day, to scarf down a breakfast and a lunch, primp himself, and then fall back to bed for the rest of the day and night.

"Yes, and now I'm ready to sleep more," he told her. "Turn off the light."

"You aren't hungry at all?" she asked him.

"Light off!" he demanded.

Hermione scowled—she didn't want to him the impression that he had any power over her, but she had been planning on turning off the light anyway. In the end she stuck up her chin and stalked over to her bed, where she promptly cracked open a book to read.

She hadn't read more than a few words when Malfoy got out of bed with a creaking noise and snapped the light off. "I was reading," she said with another scowl.

"And I was sleeping," he countered.

"You've been sleeping all day!" she said indignantly.

"Yes, but you lose a lot of sleep when you're worried for two months that the Dark Lord is going to come after you and murder you. All I'm doing is catching up, and I'm sure you won't lose anything vital by missing a night or two of reading. When you're all alone in a room, you can read to your heart's desire. But _I_ need my beauty rest," he told her. She could hear him shifting on his bed. "Perhaps you should try that sometime. Although you may be too far gone for it to do much good," he said nastily.

Hermione closed her book. It was a good thing that she hadn't been seriously intending to read—she would have put up a bigger fight if she had. She didn't go to sleep right away, though. There was something strange and wonderful that happened when the lights went off—Malfoy became a _person_. Not, of course, in the sense that he was human—his species was never in question. It was his manner that changed. He went from being a stuck-up, spoiled jackass into a decent person. There were no insults (like the one he'd just given her), and even when he made accusations, they were quiet and good-natured, as if he wasn't seriously angered with her, just looking for answers.

So instead of sleeping when the lights were off, Hermione sat and waited for him to become the _other _Malfoy. The nice one. It was tempting to go to sleep and leave him to himself for the night, but she had to savor the civility while it lasted. She was not disappointed. "I'm going to have to stay with you three the whole time, aren't I?" he asked in a resigned voice.

"It's in the contract," she reminded him.

"Right. What are we doing tomorrow?"

"Going to the Ministry. Harry needs to get his Apparition License. While he's busy there, we can go get money for us."

"I don't need money," Malfoy pointed out, though not unkindly.

Hermione sighed. "You need _muggle _money," she said, annoyed even though he hadn't said it rudely. "We all know you have plenty gold."

He was silent for a while. Thinking it was the end of their conversation, Hermione snuggled down into her blankets. Then, "Granger?"

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"I just—" he paused and then said really fast, "I just wanted to thank you. Again."

"For what?" she said, bemused.

"For making them take me. You know as well as I that if it had been just Potter and Weasley they would have turned me down in an instant."

"They wouldn't have—" Hermione began uncomfortably. She knew they would have, but she felt the need to defend her friends.

"Shut up and let me finish! I hardly ever thank people, and it's just like you to go and interrupt. And they _would _have left me, you and I both know it. I sat there for a month and a half, remembering every slander and every laugh, and prayed to Merlin that you would be there when they came because if you weren't, then I was as good as dead."

He fell silent. "You're welcome, Malfoy," she said.

"Why, Granger?"

"Because you're a person, and everyone deserves a second chance," she said, remembering her own second chance. In the schools she had attended before Hogwarts, people had mocked her, avoided her, and hated her, because she was different. They called her names and made fun of her hair and bookish ways. It was depressing just to think about it. Hogwarts had been her second chance at a school, at friendship, at a life.

"Bloody hell. Maybe it should be Saint Granger and not Saint Potter. If I wanted an answer like that I would've raised Buddha or Ghandi or one of those freaks from the grave. Give me a real answer." His words were a demand but his tone was pleading.

Hermione realized that he honestly didn't understand how she could do him the kindness after his treatment of her. "Malfoy, I…it doesn't matter what you said to me in the past. You're not a good person, I'll grant you that. You're mean and selfish and you can even be cruel at times. But I've seen terror and pain on your face, and I know that _somewhere _in there you are a person as much as I am. You may not be a good person," she told him, more quietly, "but you're not a bad one either. And no one should be forced to be a Death Eater if they don't want to."

At that, Malfoy startled her by laughing quietly into the hush of the room. "You have no idea. Good night, Granger."

"Good night, Malfoy."

The next morning Hermione packed up her things carefully and vanished the spare bed. "Get up, Malfoy," she said as she began putting things to rights in the room. He rolled over with a moan but made no move to get up. She ignored this and continued to put the room back together. When she was finished, she told him to wake up again.

"Mrrf, dunwanna," he slurred, pulling the blankets over his head.

"Malfoy!" she snapped at him.

He sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes and looked at her. "Pack up, we're leaving in a half hour."

At this he muttered a comment she chose to not hear and left the room. Hermione knocked on the door to Harry's and Ron's room to wake them.

Less than a half hour later, they were on their way to the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

Hermione dropped Harry off at the Ministry and then parked the car and pulled Ron and Malfoy into a convenience store down the street. "Now," she said in a quiet voice while they stood in an isolated corner, "We're going to Apparate to Diagon Alley so he"—she indicated Malfoy—"can get muggle money, and then I'm going to have to find a muggle bank so I can get more." 

"Why can't you just get some at Gringotts?" Ron asked her.

"Because I don't _put _money into a Gringotts account. That is to say, I have one, but most of my money is elsewhere. Now. Malfoy, we're going to have to Side-Along-Apparate just to be sure it doesn't violate the contract. Ron, I want you to meet us _right outside _Gringotts, okay?"

He looked horrified at the thought of her Side-Along-Apparating with Malfoy but nodded anyhow and vanished with a crack. As soon as he was gone, the blond reached into a pocket and pulled out a large cloak.

She was sure she had glimpsed a spark of anger and betrayal on Ron's face just before he vanished, and it was so extreme that it left her with a residual feeling of guilt. _Guilt for what? _She wondered. _It's not like I _want _Malfoy to Side-Along-Apparate with me. It's not like I _want _to make Ron sit there and wait for us. I just don't want to go through the trouble of taking off my own spells. The contract should be broken as little as possible, and for it to be broken over something stupid like Apparating…_ She shook her head to clear it and found Malfoy giving her a bemused look. "What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, pulling up the hood of his cloak. "Can we get this over with?"

"Sure." She stepped a bit closer and hesitated. "This is the first time I've done this," she informed him nervously. "Could you—could you stand before me and hold my shoulders?"

So close to him, she could see Malfoy's eyes widen and he looked like he was about to retort something but thought better of it. "If you lose me or any of my body parts, Granger," he hissed as he stepped in front of her and gingerly put his fingertips on her shoulders, "I will personally see that the favor is repaid twice over."

Hermione ignored his remarks and looked him up and down. She did not intend to fail at this. However…it was a tricky thing, Side-Along-Apparition. It was easy enough to know where one's own limbs were (and easy enough to splinch _them_, if you were inexperienced), but unless you were accustomed to it, adding in another person's body was as dangerous as turning your back on a bludger. "You're going to need to hold on tighter than that," she warned him.

He fixed his grip with a look of distaste. _This would be so much simpler if he was someone I liked, _she thought. Side-Along-Apparition was easier if there was less space between two people (hugging was best, particularly for people new to it), because it reduced the distance in between bodies that made it chancy. She took a deep breath, accounted for Malfoy's space as much as she could, and Disapparated.

After that moment of intense discomfort that always came from Apparating, Hermione opened her brown eyes to meet Malfoy's grey. "All there?" she asked as he quickly removed his hands from her shoulders.

"Two feet, two legs, two arms and hands, one head and one body. Good enough, Granger," he said.

She looked at him queerly. "Did you just compliment me?"

"Don't let it go to your head. I've seen other people make their first Side-Along-Apparitions, and it's not usually pretty."

Hermione turned away so he wouldn't see her grin and walked resolutely to the entrance of Gringotts. Ron's red hair stood out instantly and she made a beeline for it, not particularly caring if Malfoy was behind her. She felt unclean from their brief touch, even if she had been complimented.

They walked up to the desk and handed their key to the goblin sitting behind it. Malfoy came up on the side of them and handed his key to another goblin. "Malfoy, we'll meet you out in front," Hermione informed him as their goblin led Ron and her off.

Hermione tried not to think about the ensuing ride belowground as much as possible. Up at the desk again, they converted Ron's sickles and knuts into pounds and went to wait outside. "I really hate those tracks," Hermione complained, feeling sick.

"I think they're fun," Ron said plaintively.

Hermione shook her head vehemently, which made her feel worse. "_No way_. They're awful."

Ron saw how distressed she was and took a step forward, laying a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine in a minute," she told him snappily, though she was grateful for his hand.

Malfoy came out soon, and immediately asked, "How much do I owe you?"

Hermione couldn't help but notice that Ron inched closer protectively. In her head, she did the math and then said, "105 pounds, since we're splitting the price of the room." He frowned, pulling out the money and looked through them speculatively before pulling out the right bills and handing them to her. She stuffed them in a pocket of her jeans.

"Now, back to the car. Do you remember where we Apparated from, Ron?"

"Of course," he said, bristling. His fingers tightened on her shoulder.

"Then wait for us there," she said firmly. Her tone brooked no argument, so he held his grip for just an instant longer before letting go and Disapparating with a _crack!_ Hermione turned to Malfoy, who looked at her with his lips pursed together. "Trust me, I like this no more than you do," she said as he stepped near and put his hands on her shoulders.

She was grateful that he said nothing, or if he did his words were lost as she Apparated them back to the convenience store.

The three of them piled into the car and went to find a bank. Ron and Malfoy were confused as to why the muggle world had so many banks. "That's stupid," Ron said, "How do you know where to find your bank if there's more than one of them?"

"You just try to find one in your area," Hermione answered, trying to peer out the window and keep an eye on the road. "There's going to be one nearly everywhere you go, so you can get money. Since muggles can't Apparate to their bank and back to where they started from, it's easier this way. There are things called ATMs where you can take money out, but sometimes they won't let you if you're from the wrong bank," she told him.

"Are there only eighty of them?" Ron asked, confused.

"What?"

"The Eighty-Ms. Are there only eighty of them?"

Hermione's brows knit together before she realized what he was saying. "Not Eighty-Ms, Ron, A.-T.-M.-s. It's…well, never mind. I'll find some place soon."

True to her word, within the next few minutes she had found a good place to stop and get money.

They went back to the Ministry then, and saw Harry waiting out on the curb. As soon as she drove up, Harry ran to them and jumped into the backseat beside Ron. "Go, Hermione," he said grimly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

"Just drive. Leaky Cauldron, I think. Or anywhere, really. I don't care. Just not here."

Hermione set her mouth and drove. After a while, she asked, "What happened?" She had a sinking feeling that he hadn't gotten his Apparition License.

"Scrimgeour is what happened," Harry answered tersely.

A sigh escaped her. "And your Apparition License?"

"Is nonexistent," he snapped.

Hermione took a few calming breaths and drove on. "Sorry, Harry," she said after a minute. "I didn't mean to press. It's only…"

"Yes, yes, our whole...mission or whatever you want to call it, depended on it," he finished sullenly, staring out the window. Hermione twisted her rearview mirror so she could see him better.

"Mission?" she asked with a small smile. "I think it's more of an adventure."

Though it was a weak joke, it had the desired reaction; Harry's face turned from grim to accepting.

"It'll work out fine," Hermione reassured him.

There was silence for a while, so Hermione turned the radio on quietly. Even so, she saw Ron lean over toward Harry and heard him ask softly, "What are Eighty-Ms?"

* * *

The four of them found Tom drying glasses behind the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. "Hello there, Harry. Hermione, Ron," he greeted them, acknowledging Malfoy under his cloak with a nod. 

"Hello, Tom," Harry said. "We were wondering if you had enough rooms for us to stay the night?"

The barman frowned. "I've only got three rooms left. Will that be enough for you four?"

"Three is perfect, Tom," Harry said.

They got their rooms, with Harry and Ron sharing, and later that night the trio had a meeting in the shared room. "Where are we going tomorrow?" Hermione asked.

"Good question," Harry said.

"You have no clue?"

"_You're _the one supposed to have all the answers," Ron quipped.

Hermione frowned. "We may need to stay here another few nights, then. We can do research at Flourish and Blotts. Hopefully we can find something helpful there." Hermione stood up and paced. "We'll need to make a list of people to talk to for information. Maybe we could start with Lucius Malfoy, see what he knows of the Horcruxes. After all, we've got his son, and we know that at one time he was in contact with the diary. Malfoy might even know something! And since he's bound to us, all we have to do is ask him."

"That doesn't mean he'll say anything," Harry pointed out.

"Of course not, but there's a chance of it, and as far as I see it, we're going to need as much help as we can get, even if that help is coming from an…unfavorable source." Hermione stopped her pacing and looked to her boys. "Can I have some parchment and a quill, please?"

Hermione began a list of leads, resources, and people that they should look into for Horcrux information. In the end, it was not near as long as she wished it to be, but it was long enough for a beginning.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy's cell smelled like moldy oranges and old licorice. The man sat in the corner, head bowed between his knees. Hopelessness exuded off of him like the odors from the cell. Down the hall, rats quarreled and chased each other past his cell. The blond didn't look up, not even when a third rat peeked around the corner of his chamber and then began determinedly pushing a small roll of parchment towards him. 

The rat, which was missing a toe, got fed up with his task and went to the man and squealed at him. Lucius Malfoy still didn't look up, so the rat bit him on the ankle. _That _certainly got his attention, and he had more than a few things to say about it.

The rat darted at him again, and Lucius kicked it hard. This time it sulkily maintained its distance. The man wearily stood and went to pluck the parchment from the dank stone floor. "Had better be worth it," he muttered under his breath as he unrolled it…

Ron awoke panting. His sheets were twisted, and as he struggled to right them he glanced at the clock. 2:17 AM, it read. Shaking, he sat up in bed. Though this particular dream was fairly mild, it reeked of the future, and that alone shook him up. Not all of them were as placid. He had woken up from far worse dreams, but it was still unsettling, all this prophetic dreaming business. His fingers couldn't help going to the scars on his arms where the brains had marked him. Those were the only physical marks they had left on him, but the future dreams they had given him were far worse.

Well, he had seen his dreams altered before. He had dreamed-seen Hannah Abbot break her nose falling down the stairs, and had been lucky enough to catch the date and general time of the occurrence. Ron had waited at the stairs until she came by and then had made certain she didn't break her nose. That was one of the few dreams in which he'd managed to see the date—he wasn't usually so fortunate. This dream with Lucius, he hadn't a clue as to when it would occur—_if _it would occur. He could alter it if he wanted to, but he wasn't sure if the consequences would be good or bad.

He hadn't told Harry about this new…ability yet. The dreams were too unpredictable, too unregulated. There was no order, which was frustrating. Ron had learned to sit back and wait for them to happen. There had been things dreamed before this that hadn't passed yet, and also things that had passed.

And it was entirely possible that this dream wouldn't happen for a long time yet.

After all, he was still waiting for Percy to die.

* * *

_When the memories occur,  
Of a life you haven't lived.  
Stay still, you will.  
I've got a secret to hide,  
And I've got a secret to hide..._

—Coheed and Cambria, "2113"


	4. Researching

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I'm a busy person. Okay, there is a little bit of Hermione/Ron in this chapter (only a little). By the end of HBP, it's pretty obvious that they have a thing for each other, and I'm trying to make this story as realistic as possible. HOWEVER, I'm an avid Hermione/Draco fan, and this story will end up with them together (there's no way I'd write a Hermione/Ron—I'm not saying that they're not done well or anything, just that I personally don't think the two should be together). Hermione just needs some time to get her priorities in order. ;)

Chapter 4: Researching

Hermione frowned in consternation at the tome before her. Flourish and Blotts had turned out to be less helpful than she could have wished, but she wasn't willing to give up hope yet. More disappointing than that was the lack of lucidity in Harry's memory. When asking him for the names of the orphan children that Riddle had taken to the cave, Harry had thought about it for a while, then answered, "I don't remember. I _do _remember that their last names both started with B, and the boy's name was Derrick or Desmond or something like that, and the girl's name was Emily or Amelia."

Needless to say, using unclear and unreliable information was making Hermione's task take far longer than it should have. It had taken her the better part of two days to find out the children's real names: Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson. And for that she'd had to go to a muggle internet café and search for the orphanage, which was hard to find because Harry didn't know the name of that either…

To put it kindly, Hermione was beginning to get frustrated. That didn't, however, stop her from trying.

With a sigh, she closed the large book in front of her and pulled out the list they had made.

While she perused it a yawn forced tears into her eyes. Putting the paper down, she wiped them away and then looked out the window of Flourish and Blotts to see that it was well past dark. Hermione jumped up and packed away her stuff before gathering the books off the floor and putting them away. An employee came over and told her, with a great deal of annoyance, "The shop is closing. Didn't you hear us announce it ten minutes ago?"

"No, I'm sorry," Hermione responded. "I'll be gone in just a minute." She slung her bag over her shoulder and staggered off with her arms full of books, replacing them as she went.

Tom the Barman called her over to him when she entered the Leaky Cauldron. "Harry and Ron left a message for you," he said, pulling an envelope from behind the bar.

"Thank you, Tom," Hermione said, giving him a wide smile that was interrupted by a yawn.

He looked at her with amusement and said, "You know, leaving at six every morning and coming back near ten will leave you tired more often than not. Try to get more than five hours of sleep, it'll feel good."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. How did he know she was only getting five hours of sleep?

"Miss Granger," he said, adopting a more formal tone, "your room is directly above my bar. I can hear you moving up there until about midnight, and my other barman says he hears you waking up at five. Taking one morning or night off to get rested will probably do you more good than harm is all I'm saying."

"Thank you for your concern," Hermione said, taking her leave of him. She opened the note while on the stairs and read it while walking.

_Hermione,_

_We looked in at Flourish and Blotts and didn't see you there. We're tired of eating in the Leaky Cauldron every night and went out for some muggle food. See you tonight when we get back. Sorry for not waiting._

_Harry and Ron_

Hermione sighed. They couldn't have been looking very hard for her. Not that it mattered. It was more likely that they'd tired of her company, considering that the only thing on her mind recently was finding out information about Horcruxes. She went to her room and pulled out her list of notes for the day, as well as the list she'd made with the boys. Both lists were dismally short.

With a sigh, she decided that maybe Tom was right and she needed to get some more sleep. Hermione changed into her pajamas and turned off all the lights but one, settling into bed to read a chapter in her book before going to sleep.

A knock interrupted her reading. Hermione put her book aside walked across the cold floor of the room to open the door. "Yes?" she snapped.

A cloaked and hooded figure took a step into her room, causing Hermione to take a step back and grope behind her for her wand. The person took another step, and shut the door with his (her?) foot. Hermione took another two steps back. "Calm down, Granger, it's only me," a familiar voice said.

Her body relaxed. "And you couldn't've told me that before I almost hexed you into next week?" she said sarcastically. It was hard to keep her hands from shaking with relief.

"Granger, your wand is nowhere near you," Malfoy said, pulling off the cloak.

Hermione scowled, but he was right. Over her shoulder she could see her wand on the bedside table next to her book. He gave her a patronizing smile and moved to sit on the desk. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Sitting." Malfoy examined her closely, making Hermione shiver self-consciously. When he didn't say anything, she nervously sat down on her bed. "What do you want?" she asked him quietly, unnerved.

"Turn off the light," he said.

"What?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Turn it off," Malfoy said. He wouldn't meet her suspicious stare. What the hell did he want the light off for, anyway? It wouldn't make anything different from what it was when illuminated.

"No," she responded at last.

"Granger," he pleaded.

"Why?" Hermione snapped. Why wouldn't he just let this go? The truth was, without having any idea of his motives, she was scared of what he might do when the light was off.

Malfoy flicked his wand and the light vanished. Hermione lunged across the bed, groping for the lamp, her wand, anything. Her wand she heard clatter to the floor, while the lamp had vanished. "Calm down, Granger, I'm not going to do anything to you. I just wanted to talk."

Hermione pushed herself back against the wall, trying to see something—anything—in the dark room. But there was no light from the window, and all she could see was the faint glow of the doorframe. "I don't believe you."

There was a long pause, and the silence was more deafening than his speech. "I thought you, of all people, would have recognized what darkness means to me."

Her mouth was open to retort something when it audibly snapped shut. She remembered, then, how civil he became when the lights were off. _Does he really need to be invisible to reveal sincerity? _Hermione wondered. _Is he truly that insecure?_

"I'm going crazy here, Granger," he said at last. "I have to wear a cloak all the time, I can't go outside to get a decent meal. You three can come and go, but I can only in theory. If the Dark Lord got wind of my whereabouts, I'd be gone before you could say Harry Potter. So I sit in my room with nothing to do, with no company, and wait for you three to dictate my next movements. But I can't wait anymore, Granger, it's driving me mad."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. She hadn't even considered that Malfoy would have a hard time here. In fact, she wasn't sure that anyone had visited him in the week and a half since their arrival. "I'll…" she began, but then didn't know what to say. Malfoy shifted on the desk, which made her uncomfortable. It was as if he was waiting for a decision from her.

"I'll see what I can do, Malfoy," Hermione said eventually. He didn't leave, so she sat there uncomfortably for a few minutes. "Well, if that's all…?"

"Actually, it's not. I was wondering if you're planning on going back to Hogwarts this year."

Hermione hesitated. "No, we're not going to attend school."

Malfoy said nothing, but she heard his feet hit the floor and he walked to the door. "I'll replace the lamp," he said before he left.

Lying in bed, Hermione reflected that conversations with Malfoy often left something to be desired. Intent, she supposed, was what they lacked. She could never pinpoint why he acted like he did. It was unnerving, she thought as sleep carried her away, _I never know what to expect next._

* * *

Everything was black, so pitch black that even the size of the room was indistinguishable. Someone was breathing heavily, every few breaths ending in a sob. "Granger?" Malfoy's voice said. 

The sob-breaths stopped for an instant. "You…" Hermione said wonderingly. Then her tone changed. "You bastard. How could you have done this to us?" Her speech trailed off in a sob and chains rattled as she shifted in the dark. She gasped with pain and then the only sound was her labored breathing.

"Granger, are you okay?" Malfoy sounded concerned.

"What do you care?" Hermione growled.

"Where are you hurt?"

"I hate you," she said vehemently.

The dream had been so dark that Ron didn't know where it ended. All he knew was that he found himself in the room he shared with Harry, confused and filled with a fury at something vague. Ron had convinced Harry that they should go out that night so that he wouldn't have to dream true again. It helped, usually, if he went to bed exhausted.

Not this time. When he'd pulled himself into bed well past ten, it was with the expectation that he would get a long night's sleep. But then the dream had come anyway, short and perplexing as it was.

Though the circumstances were unclear, one thing was certain: Malfoy was going to betray them. And Hermione was going to be hurt as a result of that. Ron couldn't let that happen, couldn't let Hermione get hurt because of that murderous Death Eater. He was tempted to run to her right then and tell her everything he knew but then he thought better of it. It wouldn't help anything, not with Hermione being so trusting in Malfoy.

Ron would need to prove Malfoy's untrustworthy nature to her somehow, sometime before the dream came true. He wished desperately that he knew how long he had.

* * *

Hermione woke up at seven. She stretched, but didn't feel incredibly well-rested. One look at the desk, with the unhelpful scraps of parchment on it made her resent ever waking. A warm shower made her feel better and also helped Hermione to come to a conclusion over what to do with Malfoy. 

She got out of the shower, dressed, and then went downstairs to get a breakfast tray. Before she went to Flourish and Blotts this morning she was going to sit down and have a nice breakfast—with Malfoy. Hermione had to knock several times on his door before his voice called out, "Who's there?"

"It's Hermione," she said.

The door swung open and she stepped in hesitantly. A disgruntled Malfoy shut it behind her. "What do you want?" he asked, blinking at her somewhat owlishly.

"Actually, I wanted to have breakfast with you," Hermione said.

Malfoy gave her a speculative look, then shrugged. "Whatever. I'm going to shower first, though."

Hermione stared at him (but tried to avoid looking at his Dark Mark) as he pulled clothing out of his trunk and then went into the bathroom. Times like this made her wonder if he was being rude on purpose. It would've been so simple for him to just sit down with her while the breakfast was hot, but instead he had to make her wait on him. She put the tray on his desk and sat down in the chair to wait.

Almost fifteen minutes later Malfoy came back, fully clothed and hastily primped. "Aren't you usually gone by now?" he asked, sitting down on the desk beside the food.

She looked at him suspiciously as he helped himself to a pancake. "Yes. How did you know that?"

Malfoy shrugged. "The barmen were talking about you. Up at five, asleep at midnight. You look it, too," he said. His mouth was open to say more, but then he took a drink of orange juice instead.

Unsure of how to respond to that, Hermione helped herself to some food as well. "I'm going to try to get us out of Diagon Alley by tomorrow night," Hermione said.

There was a tense silence. "So what exactly made you take the time out of your busy schedule to come visit me today? Surely you didn't feel bad that I'm practically locked up in this room all day with no company," he said.

"There's no need to be bitter," Hermione snapped. "We needed to be here for a while, and leaving by tomorrow night is not giving me enough time to do what needs to be done, but I am trying to be considerate here and think about how this is affecting you."

"Of course you are, now that I've bothered you about it in the first place."

Hermione seethed, and struggled to get her emotions under control before she responded. "I don't have to make us leave early, Malfoy," she warned.

"Oh, please," he said, feigning concern, "Don't change your plans on account of me."

"Maybe I won't!" she snarled, standing.

For a fleeting instant, Malfoy's mask of indifference slipped. His distress showed through and it almost made Hermione pause—almost. Instead she glared at him furiously and stormed out of the room.

Ron caught her outside the door to her room. "Hermione, are you okay?" he asked immediately. "He didn't—"

She ground her teeth together, but shook her head. "No, he didn't do anything but be himself. Merlin, he's so infuriating!"

"Yes, yes he is," Ron agreed, giving Malfoy's door an indecipherable look. Then he turned back to Hermione. "Are you all right? I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "I don't think you have," she said.

"You look tired," he told her tenderly. "You should probably go back to bed."

"I'm fine, Ron," she said. "There's so much to do I don't think I can afford to sleep right now."

"Hermione," he said, "The books will be there in another few hours, I promise. And you won't be any good to anyone if you fall asleep in the middle of researching."

She was about to protest again when he reached his arm around her and opened the door to her room. Hermione stood stock-still in his half-embrace, wanting him to hold her, even if just for a minute. Ron hesitantly put his other hand on her shoulder, considering, and then he turned her around and steered her into her room. "You need to sleep," he told her firmly.

Hermione sat down on the bed and took off her shoes while Ron closed the blinds. He then tucked her into bed and sat on the edge for a moment, just looking at her. Ron reached out a hand and shyly rubbed it across her cheek, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

She nodded, already feeling tired, and heard the door click shut behind Ron.

* * *

That afternoon, after having visited his brothers, Ron returned to the Leaky Cauldron to find Hermione in his room chatting with Harry. "Ron," she said brightly when he entered. "I was hoping you'd be back soon." 

"Here I am," he agreed with her, though somewhat less cheerily. He was still mulling over the dream with Malfoy and it hurt not to be able to tell her about it.

"Sit," she suggested. "I don't think you're going to like what I'm about to propose." Ron's heart beat a little faster at that. Was this going to be what led to Malfoy's betrayal of them? He knew that something was going to take them to that path, unless he stopped it somehow. There simply wasn't enough time to do everything without giving away his secret.

"As you two know, I've been almost living in Flourish and Blotts for the past two weeks." She laughed bitterly. "Leaving my room at six and coming back at ten to go over everything I'd gotten from that day's research. Well, it's not working. I haven't been able to find much. I need a real library, one with archives and the like."

"But the only complete historical archives are in the Ministry," Ron protested, seeing where she was going with this.

"That's not what I was suggesting," Hermione said. "Actually, I was considering another option besides the archives." She hesitated.

Harry looked confused, and Ron felt queasy. The more she spoke, the surer he was that this would be what led up to the true dream. "What did you have in mind?" he managed to say.

Hermione frowned. "Talk to Lucius Malfoy. Wait, before you start protesting, hear me out! He was a trusted Death Eater, and he's been in the ranks for a long time. If anyone knows something about the Horcruxes, it's him."

She looked to them beseechingly, but found no ally. Harry was frowning at her words, a sure sign of his disapproval. When Hermione's eyes found him, Ron couldn't help but look away. This business with Lucius Malfoy wasn't good.

Ron recalled his dream, with Pettigrew and Lucious. _What was written in that note_, he wondered, _that was so important?_ Orders, most likely. But orders for what? Ron could only think of two orders the Dark Lord would need to give to someone in Azkaban: suicide or escape, either of which meant that Lucius knew too much and Voldemort wanted him out of the Ministry's grasp.

In which case, he would be very useful for them if they could make him talk.

"Come on, Harry, Ron. He's got to know something about the Horcruxes. Riddle's diary was in his possession. While he may not have known exactly what it was, I'm sure that Voldemort's Death Eaters know something. I can try to talk to Malfoy about it, but as a new member, it's unlikely he'll know much. And while we're there having our nice little chat with Lucius, we can try to come up with a way to smuggle him out of there."

The clockwork inside Ron's head was still ticking. The contract that bound Malfoy to them would be invalid if they didn't have his father hidden by the time he was out of Azkaban. If they didn't go to visit and/or get him soon, Voldemort may send the order and there would be no Lucius Malfoy to collect. The longer they waited, the more information Malfoy gathered about him, all of which he would hand over to the Dark Lord without a moment's hesitation.

Everything could fall to pieces if they didn't do this. Though he was violently opposed to Hermione's idea, he had to. There truly wasn't a choice for him.

"I think," Ron said slowly, "that it sounds like a good idea. And we should find a way to get him out of there so that nothing happens to him. Without him, our contract is nothing."

Hermione was beaming at him, and it was worth his guilty conscience.

After that, there wasn't really any way Harry could say no.

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione worked up her courage and knocked on Draco Malfoy's door. 

"Who's there?" he called.

"Hermione," she called back.

The door opened and she stepped in. "To what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?" Malfoy said as he shut the door behind her.

"We're leaving. Tomorrow night. Have your bags packed."

"Where are we going?" he asked. Hermione looked at him suspiciously, wondering if he was asking out of genuine curiosity or because of a different motive.

She decided he was just curious. "We're going to try to get your father out of Azkaban."

Malfoy's eyes widened; other than that, he showed no sign of surprise. "You're crazy, Granger. No one's escaped from Azkaban without the help of Death Eaters, and somehow I don't think they'll rally to your cause."

"Sirius escaped without their help," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but no one…" his voice trailed off.

Hermione smirked. "_No one_ knows how he got out? We know. And I'm sure we could get your father out one way or another. Besides, the Dementors don't scare us. Can you produce a patronus?"

Malfoy looked at her thoughtfully. "Your plan is far from foolproof, Granger. Have you ever been to Azkaban, or seen it?"

"No," she said, smiling, "but I have a copy of the blueprints."

"No one could ever say you're not thorough," Malfoy said scathingly.

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"Because one day, Granger, you'll get caught with your nose somewhere it's not supposed to be," he replied. It sounded like a threat.

"You never answered my question," she said with a grin.

"Any question I didn't answer wasn't worthy of my time."

Hermione ignored his comment. "Can you produce a patronus?"

"Of course I can. Anyone who can't is a bumbling idiot."

"Then we shouldn't have a problem, should we? Try not to talk to your father, though, as that would be in violation of our contract." Hermione turned to go, glad that she had been in control (mostly) of this meeting and that she'd managed to get to the point unlike earlier that morning.

"Speaking of the contract, I have a question for you."

"Yes?" She didn't turn around, didn't want to be drawn into an argument.

"Part of the contract was that I wasn't to say what Potter, Weasley and you are doing. What _are _you doing?"

As she left, Hermione said, "_Now _whose nose is somewhere it's not supposed to be?"

* * *

_I know I can be hard to handle  
I can be a pain in the ass  
So many mood swings, constant changes  
But you took it well_

--You're Pretty, "Pretending"


	5. Azkaban

A/N: Long wait, I know. Thanks for being patient. I'll try to have a second chapter up later this month, in celebration of the holidays, because I feel bad for always making you readers wait a month between installments.

Chapter 5: Azkaban

After meeting with all of the boys, Hermione returned to Flourish and Blotts. She browsed through spellbooks until she had found a spell that she'd heard of before. Until earlier, she had forgotten that it existed, but now that she only had a matter of hours left to be doing research in Flourish and Blotts, she decided it would be best to utilize it. It was a handy little spell that could be used to copy large (or small) chunks of text. If she used it on the right books she could have enough text to continue her research even while they traveled.

So for that day, and the next, Hermione spent her time copying large passages from the history books. In the end she had about fifty rolls of parchment for her to go through, which pleased her even though she didn't think it would be of much use.

Hermione had to shrink all the rolls of parchment before she could fit them in her bag, and then she returned all of the books to their shelves with relief. She would be glad to be gone from the place. The streets of Diagon Alley were nearly empty in the faint twilight so she hurried through them, mentally working out how to pack her things.

Without warning, two arms grabbed hers. Hermione twisted, reaching for her wand immediately. "Calm down there, Hermione," said a familiar voice.

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to hex your poor escorts, would you?" Fred asked.

She scowled at them. "You two should be more careful. You scared me to death!"

George looked over her head at Fred. "_We _should be more careful?" he asked.

"We're not the ones walking through Diagon Alley unescorted when it's almost dark," Fred pointed out.

"Okay, okay," Hermione said. "But what are you two doing?"

"Just watching out for our little brother's girlfriend," Fred said.

"I'm not his girlfriend," Hermione said quietly.

"But when you are, you will come in and help us work out some formulas, won't you?" George asked with a playful nudge.

"Sure, George," she said.

"Excellent," the twins said together, pushing their way through the door of the Leaky Cauldron without letting go of her arms. They led the way upstairs and then left Hermione at her door while they knocked on Harry and Ron's door. Leaving them to their goodbyes, she went into her room and began to pack. She was disappointed that her belongings didn't fit into her bag so neatly as they had in her imagination, but with the help of a few shrinking charms she was able to get fit everything.

Before she left, her eyes swept over the room, and she noted with a bit of shock that the lamp Malfoy had vanished had been replaced. With a small smile, she pulled her trunk out into the hall and shut the door behind her.

Hermione went first to Harry and Ron's room. The door was ajar, and she swung it open to see that Fred and George were still there. "Are you two ready to leave?" she asked.

"Um…" Harry mumbled, looking around. "Almost." His and Ron's belongings were piled up onto their beds.

Trying hard not to laugh, Hermione nodded. "I'll meet you at the car. Do you remember where it is?"

"Yeah," Ron said.

"Goodbye Fred. Goodbye George," she said, giving them each a hug.

"Don't forget you promised to help us," George reminded her with a mischievous grin.

"Goodbye, Hermione," Fred said, his smile mirroring his brother's.

She then went across the hall to Malfoy's room and knocked on the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Hermione," she said. It was annoying to have to announce herself every time, but at least he was being cautious.

The door swung open. "Are we leaving?" he asked, almost eagerly.

"Yes, we're leaving," she said.

Malfoy disappeared for a minute, and when he returned he was cloaked and hooded. He pulled his trunk out into the hall with him and then turned his head to her expectantly. She was amazed that he had actually been ready—Hermione had expected that he would be obstinate as he usually was.

"We can just meet Harry and Ron at the car," she said, realizing that she should have gotten Malfoy out first. If Fred and George saw him they would have too many questions.

He picked up his trunk, nodding, and then began to lug it down the stairs. Hermione followed at a somewhat slower pace, pulling her trunk along behind her. "Thank you for replacing the lamp, by the way," she said breathlessly when she met him at the foot of the stairs.

Malfoy shrugged. "I said that I would."

"I know, I just…" Hermione stopped mid-sentence, deciding it wasn't prudent to say what she thought.

"You just didn't expect me to do it," he finished for her. She felt the blood rush to her face with embarrassment. "A Ma—I never break a promise if I can help it."

Hermione couldn't find anything to say to that, and besides thanking Tom on the way out, said nothing. They got to the car and shoved their luggage in, then had to wait a full five minutes for Harry and Ron to join them. The pair stuffed their trunks into the back, then piled into the car.

It was a long drive, Hermione realized a couple hours in. She had made a bad decision in choosing to leave that night. At a gas station she stopped and got a coffee and a few cans of caffeinated soda to keep her awake before continuing. Harry and Ron and Malfoy were all asleep by then, so it was hard to keep herself from sleeping as well. To entertain herself, she played a game with license plates, going through the numbers, then the alphabet, and then trying to think of acronyms for various letter combinations.

"PCT. Please Clean Thestrals," she murmured. "DLN. Doors Like Noses. No, that's a bad one. Don't Lick Noses. That's bad too, but oh well. AND. Anacondas Need Drugs. FBU. Frogs Belch…"

"What the hell are you doing, Granger?" Malfoy moaned next to her, shifting in his seat.

Hermione blushed to have been caught playing her game. "I was keeping myself awake," she admitted. "It's a game I play."

Malfoy chuckled at her and sat up straight. "You know, your car isn't very comfortable for sleeping in."

"It wasn't made for sleeping in. That just happens to be your unfortunate situation." Hermione shifted the rearview mirror to see into the back. "Harry and Ron don't seem to have a problem with it."

"Those two dunderheads could sleep in one of the broom closets at school and not notice a difference," Malfoy said.

She tried not to laugh. It was true, though. When Harry and Ron got tired it was hard to keep them from sleeping, and once they were asleep it was even harder to wake them.

"You don't have to sleep," Hermione ventured cautiously. She didn't want to give him the impression that she wanted him to stay awake with her, but she really would appreciate the company.

Malfoy smirked at her, and she knew he'd seen through her careful words. "You know, Granger, if you want me to stay up with you, you could just ask me to."

Hermione clenched her jaw, embarrassed. "And why would I want a coldhearted bastard like you staying up with me? I'd rather throw myself off a bridge."

"Are there sharp rocks beneath your bridge?"

She threw him a scathing look. "No, but your mangled body is," she snapped.

"Then why are you throwing yourself off? Wouldn't it have been better to just say that you would rather throw _me _off a bridge?"

Hermione scowled at him and refused to comment.

When Malfoy next spoke, his voice was calm. "I'll stay up with you, Granger," he said quietly.

Realizing that he'd become civil, she said, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Granger. I don't mind."

She looked over at him, startled, to find him looking at her sincerely. His grey eyes glinted with light reflected off the windshield, making him seem childish and young in his earnestness. Hermione looked back to the road, unsettled by the glimpse of the real Draco Malfoy she'd just seen. "Do you want some Coke?" she offered.

"What's that?"

Hermione smiled and handed him a can. "It's a type of drink. Try it."

Malfoy inspected the can and then looked at her in confusion. "How do you drink it? There aren't any openings."

Despite trying not to, she laughed.

* * *

Hermione was struggling to keep her eyes open as dawn broke across the front of her windshield. Malfoy was in much the same situation as she, and was closing his eyes for long periods of time before he managed to pull them open again. "I think we need another game," she said with an effort. 

Malfoy perked up. "Yes, a game. What game? Name a game. Quick, before I fall asleep."

She smiled at his attitude and thought, then frowned. "I don't know. Can you come up with one?"

He leaned his head back against the window and shook it slowly. "No."

"Okay, then. How about I just talk and you listen?"

"I'm going to fall asleep within a minute of you starting," He said dubiously, closing his eyes.

"Don't worry, Malfoy, I'll keep it interesting. I know I said the other day that it was none of your business what we three are doing, but I suppose that if you intend to stay with us I may as well tell you." This was a bad idea, she knew, but Hermione was too tired to care at the moment. And it only felt right to tell Malfoy what they were doing, since he was staying with them. Besides, he may be able to help them with it. It would be better to know if Malfoy knew anything than to have the answer sitting beside them the whole time and not realize it just because they wouldn't tell him the truth.

Hermione began their story.

"…so here we are, traveling to Azkaban to find your father, hoping to kill two birds with one stone. If we can get him out, we'll throw him into hiding with your mother, which cements our contract, and we can learn from him what he knows about the Horcruxes."

The sunlight was strong in the windows and Harry and Ron had begun to stir restlessly in the backseat. Hermione glanced over at Malfoy, who was staring at her incredulously.

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked. "I appreciate the story, but you can't possibly expect me to believe that's the truth."

"Well, it is. If it wasn't, why bother about getting your father now?" she pointed out. "Besides, we don't need you to believe me. You'll know how wrong you are soon enough."

Malfoy continued to stare at her, but his gaze was speculative now. He was assessing her, she knew, though what conclusion he came to she didn't know. She kept her eyes on the road in front of her. "We'll stop in the next town that comes up and get some sleep," she promised.

"Good," he murmured.

"Malfoy…" she began, then paused. He looked over at her questioningly. "Thank you. I'm grateful that you stayed up with me."

He nodded sleepily and leaned his head against the window. Hermione watched him, though, and she knew he didn't sleep. She had the satisfying feeling that he was processing everything she had told him, bit by bit.

True to her word, they stopped at the next town. She went to an average-looking hotel and got two rooms, one for her and one for Malfoy. Harry and Ron were awake by then, and decided they'd rather explore the town than continue sleeping. That was fine with her, and she was asleep almost as soon as she clambered into bed.

* * *

Hermione woke up to furtive sounds in her room. She rolled over and reflexively clutched her wand, which she kept under her pillow. "Git! Look, you almost woke her up!" she heard Ron whisper. 

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "Wasn't that why we came here in the first place?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to wake her up nicely," Ron mumbled. Hermione let go of her wand.

"Fine, I'll go wait outside." She heard footsteps and her door shutting quietly.

Ron leaned over her and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Hermione?" he asked quietly.

"Mmm?" she asked sleepily.

"Hermione, it's getting really late in the afternoon," Ron began.

She sat up in bed sharply. "What time is it?"

"Nearly three," he admitted.

"Ron! How could you let me sleep this long?" she shrieked, hopping out of bed.

"I—er…"

"No matter. Thanks for waking me up. Have you two woken Malfoy?"

"No," Ron said.

"Fools," she muttered. "Go get Harry and meet me at the car, I'll get Malfoy."

"Okay," he said submissively, leaving the room.

Hermione pulled on her sweater and put her shoes back on, then hurried to the room next door. She rapped on the door loudly.

"Malfoy, we're leaving! Hurry up and get out here!" Suddenly there was no door behind her knuckles.

"Please, Granger, _must _you use my name in public? I realize we may be in a muggle town but if anyone hears…"

She covered up her embarrassment at the mistake by snapping, "We're leaving."

"So I gathered. I suppose there's no chance you'll get back that good mood you had this morning?" He looked at her furious expression and sighed. "I guess not."

"Let's go check out," she scowled, leading the way to the front desk. Malfoy sighed and followed her at a more dignified pace.

They crammed themselves into the car and Hermione pulled out a map, studying it. "There's only a few more hours of driving. Do we want to attempt the break-in tonight or tomorrow?"

"Why are we breaking in? I think all we need to do is break out," Malfoy said from the passenger's seat.

"What?"

He smirked. "I can get us in. It's up to you to get us out."

Hermione smiled at him gratefully. "You just made this task a lot easier." Harry and Ron stared at the two from the backseat, but Hermione didn't care. It would seem that she and Malfoy had come to an understanding.

* * *

That night, two teenagers walked into Azkaban and asked to see Lucius Malfoy. The man sitting behind the administration desk scoffed at them. "You two want to see Mr. Malfoy? I'm sorry but visitors aren't allowed after six."

Draco Malfoy drew himself up to his full height. "Do you know who I am?"

"Who you are doesn't matter unless you're actually visiting," the guard pointed out with a superior smirk.

Hermione saw the corner of Malfoy's mouth twitch in annoyance. "Who I am does, in fact, matter," he said, leaning in close to the man. "I'm Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's son. If you intend to live a prosperous life at all you'll let me in to see my father," he threatened.

The guard clenched his jaw defiantly but knew that the Malfoys had enough power in the wizarding world to wreak havoc upon his family. "Who's she?" he snarled.

"_She _is not important," Malfoy said dismissively. "Nothing but a family servant who happens to be rather handy with a wand, should anything…unexpected occur."

Trying to look cold and calculating, Hermione was careful not to show much expression but to examine the security guard with interest. She didn't actually care about him or his features but it made him somewhat intimidated, which is what she had planned on. "All right then," the man said, seeming rather ruffled. "But I can only give you five minutes. Hurry up, then." He opened the door to let them in, and Malfoy walked in imperiously without looking back. Hermione paused long enough to let Harry and Ron go through ahead of her (they were under the invisibility cloak) and then she went through, being careful to cast wary looks around at all times.

The man stalked through the halls, clearly annoyed he'd been thwarted. Malfoy walked unconcerned, but Hermione was slightly panicky even though she was careful to not show it. Despite all of her researching on it, Azkaban had always been annoyingly difficult to find information on. It was hard to separate the facts from the rumors, and even more difficult to piece together the information she had into anything useful.

Malfoy had told her that the whole place was enchanted so that if any magic was used it would be detected at once and the whole place would lock down. Invisibility cloaks were exempt because they were magical items and didn't exude a magical "mist" as he called it, like most things did. Hermione had read about the "mist" before, and it made sense—any spell used left a sort of echo behind so that, with the proper tools, even the smallest spell (like Lumos) could be detected. Azkaban had the proper tools.

Besides that helpful bit of information, Hermione also held a complete copy of the blueprints. She'd found it in her robes after the night at the Department of Mysteries a couple years before. The only explanation for that was that it had fallen into her robes when she'd been knocked into a bookshelf and all the books had fallen on her. Despite having very serious moral issues about stealing, she'd been knocked out before ever knowing she had the plans. So now the blueprints were hers, and she hadn't turned them in to the Ministry because if the Ministry arrested anyone important, then she could possibly lend a helping hand in getting them back. Stan Shunpike's arrest had simply supported that conclusion and the blueprints hadn't been returned, although neither had she put them to good use before this day.

Hermione grunted softly as she ran into Harry and Ron in front of her. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed anyone stopping. Though, to be fair, the two of them were under the invisibility cloak, and she couldn't see them. They had all decided that Harry and Ron were too conspicuous to go unnoticed, and if word got back to the Death Eaters that the missing Malfoy had been seen with them, they would figure out that he'd switched sides. Hermione, however, was unknown enough in the wizarding world to not raise so much interest. Quickly, she resumed her watch of the prison's halls, waiting for anything suspicious.

The guard had stopped in front of a cell and was standing off to the side, waiting for them to finish their visit so he could usher them out. Hermione carefully watched their surroundings, checking that no one else was coming their way. There was a muffled grunt and when she looked back, the man who had led them to Lucius's cell was lying on the floor.

Ron stepped out from under the cloak and rolled the man onto his back, fumbling for the keys on his belt. He looked at the ring in dismay. "Do we really have to try all of these?" he asked miserably. The ring had at least thirty keys on it.

"Just find the key," Malfoy said. "And don't forget, no magic."

"Draco?" came the hoarse voice from inside the cell. For a second, there was absolute silence and no one moved. Hermione took a cautious look at Malfoy, who was staring at her forcefully. "Son, is that you?"

Malfoy's face hardened and he stood stock still, waiting for her to make the decision. His eyes asked her to let him speak with his father, but his expression told her that if she said no he would act as if he didn't care. Hermione let her breath out slowly, just realizing that she'd been holding it, and nodded. There was a flicker of relief over Malfoy's face that made breaking the contract worthwhile.

"It's me, father. I've come to get you out of here," Malfoy said quietly, his eyes locked on Hermione's. She gave him one final nod and looked down at his hands. His nails were black, as if with nail polish.

Ron began to work with the keys. Lucius Malfoy gasped. "Is that a Weasley you have with you?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain and disgust.

"Not like any of your Death Eater pals were willing to come and help me get you out," Draco Malfoy snapped. "So I had to devise my own way." Hermione noted, with a slightly giddy feeling, that Malfoy had said "your Death Eater pals" and not "our Death Eater pals."

The Malfoys stared at each other, and Draco looked away first. "You don't have to come to their side, father. I just needed them to get you out."

Hermione resumed her watch, but glanced back at the pair frequently. They had stopped talking but seemed to be communicating more through their expressions, which Hermione didn't have the time to interpret. She pulled the blueprints out of her robes and examined them. Their original state, or at least, the state in which she'd originally found them, was a small, square scrap of parchment, almost completely black with the inked in passages. When enlarged, though, the black passages spread out to give the whole place a rather fantastical look. Hermione speculated that Azkaban had at least as many halls and secret passages as Hogwarts, but contained in a much smaller area so that it was like a labyrinth. This time she had enlarged them beforehand, knowing that if she used magic in Azkaban it could mean the deaths of them all.

She'd never mentioned that she had the blueprints to Harry until recently. Hermione had a bad suspicion that he would decide to save anyone that the Ministry unfairly sent to Azkaban, and Hermione preferred that they only use the blueprints in dire need.

"Harry," Hermione said, to get his attention, and then she gestured down the hall she was supposed to be watching. He nodded, looking at the blueprints she held, and then moved so that he could peer down both ends of the corridor. She sank to the floor and spread out the map out on the floor in front of her. Hermione hadn't had much time to examine it recently, and she did so now. Ron's keys rattled in counterpoint to her mind as she tried to devise a plan.

She thought she had finally figured out a way to escape Azkaban when the keys fell silent. Hermione looked up at Ron, her smile fading as she realized the door to Lucius's cell wasn't open. "It's not here," Ron said, bemused.

Hermione frowned. "Now that you say that, it doesn't make sense that the guard would have the keys to the cells. That would make it too easy to break out."

Everyone else stared at her, wondering what to do next. Even Lucius Malfoy looked at her curiously. Hermione wracked her brain for an answer, then looked speculatively at the bars of the older Malfoy's cell. "No magic," she murmured thoughtfully. "Okay…new plan, then. All the magic detectors felt four people come in, no matter what the guard saw. So they must feel four people go out."

She turned her gaze to Draco Malfoy and gave him a hard look. "Don't break the contract," she told him.

He scoffed. "Of course I won't."

"I want your wand."

Malfoy's face turned cold. "Then take the bloody thing," he said, handing it out to her. Lucius watched the proceedings avidly, his gray eyes taking in the fact that his son was following orders from a Mudblood.

Hermione pocketed his wand, then folded the blueprints up neatly and shoved them in a pocket of her robes. She took a deep breath, then let it out again, still looking at the bars of Lucius's cell. Hopefully, she could squeeze herself between them. The older Malfoy wouldn't be able to do so, but Hermione had a more delicate bone structure and might be able to manage it.

She sat down on the ground and fit her head through the bars, then encountered a problem with her shoulders. "Merlin," she muttered, pulling herself out. It was going to be a tight fit, tighter than she had hoped for, but she thought she could do it. She pulled off her robe before trying again. Hermione raised her arms over her head as if she were about to dive, then inserted her hands between the bars. Wriggling on her side, she pushed her hands through until she was almost to her head, and then tilted her head sideways so that her nose was pressed into her upper arm.

Hermione continued to squirm between the bars, inching her way in. Once her shoulders were entirely in Lucius's cell, she put her arms down and used them to push her torso through the bars. For once, she was glad that she was very flat-chested, or she wouldn't have ever been able to squeeze in. After a few more minutes of twisting around to make her body fit, Hermione found herself completely inside Lucius Malfoy's prison cell.

"Great, now there are two of us in here," he said sarcastically.

"It is great," Hermione snapped at him, not in a mood for his nonsense. She glanced down at her arms, which were red and chafed from the bars, and knew that her hips would probably have bruises on them in a few hours. Reaching through the bars, she took her robes back from Ron, who had picked them up from the floor. Pulling them on, she looked Lucius over again. "Do you think you can hold my weight?" she asked him.

"I'm not going to touch you, Mudblood," he growled at her.

"Oh, well, in that case, you're just going to be stuck in this cell with me for a while," she snarled. "Because I'm not sure I want to go through the trouble of going through those bars again just to get out."

He looked ready to retort but held his tongue, for which she was grateful. Hermione's temper was reaching its breaking point, and she was not going to take any slander from Lucius Malfoy. She looked around the cell again, considering, and then went over to the right corner. "There is a ventilation shaft, up here, disguised with a spell so that it doesn't look any different from the ceiling. You can't reach it on your own, and I can't reach it on my own, but if you pick me up and can hold me for long enough I think I can get it open."

"Won't it be locked? What makes you think you can even open it?"

"Why would they lock a vent that their prisoner can neither see nor reach?" Hermione countered. "It doesn't make sense. Besides, why would anyone be silly enough to think they can escape with all those dementors around? We just got lucky that Voldemort is keeping them busy elsewhere," she said smugly, enjoying how both Malfoys flinched at the name.

"Don't—"

"Don't tell me what to do or you won't be getting out of here," Hermione snarled at him. "I've already proven that I can barely get through the bars, if you'd like to try I'd welcome you to do so. At least we'll all get a laugh out of it." He was silent and Hermione gestured him over to the corner where she stood. "Now help me get up there."

His face showed her the distaste he had for her, but she refused to let that stop her. Lucius Malfoy grabbed her waist and raised her up as high as he could. Hermione reached her fingers, but couldn't touch the ceiling. "Higher," she murmured, and Malfoy complied with a grunt.

Hermione pushed up on the cover of the vent until, with a creak, it acceded to her wishes and slid out of place. She grasped the edge of the hole that remained with both hands and said, "Lift me."

Lucius Malfoy shifted his grip on her and took a firm hold on the soles of her shoes, lifting her above his head. She scrabbled to get a grip on the walls of the ventilation shaft and managed to slide the rest of her body into it. Hermione could almost feel everyone's eyes upon her.

In the tiny space of the shaft, Hermione managed to turn herself around, then carefully poked her head back down through the hole. "Malfoy, can you climb?"

"Of course I can climb," he said haughtily.

It took effort not to roll her eyes at his tone, but she managed it. "Then I need you to get the rope from Harry and hand me the end."

"You expect me to climb up a rope?" Lucius Malfoy asked dubiously.

"Do you have a problem with that?" she snapped at him. "I certainly don't have the strength to pull you up here with me."

He quieted at that, and turned to the bars of his cage with a grimace. Harry wordlessly passed him the rope, glancing at Hermione. She peered over at her friends and the younger Malfoy. "You three might want to take care of that guard," she said. They looked around nervously, and then their gazes all turned to the man who was unconscious on the floor.. "Tie him up and gag him or something. And I'm fairly sure we will be coming out in that hallway over there, so after you're done with that meet us over there."

Lucius Malfoy handed her the end of the rope, and she grabbed it firmly, then moved through the passage until she was above the cell that was just to the right of Malfoy's. They would need to travel through the left hand passageway to get out. Hermione tied the end of the rope to the other grate, then crawled back to Lucius's cell. "Good, you already moved the bed. I'm going to go over there and make sure the rope doesn't come loose, and you should count to ten slowly before trying to come up."

He nodded at her, his disgusted scowl from earlier turning into an expression of confusion. Hermione didn't stop to gloat about it, and backtracked through the vents, then sat down on the cover that she'd tied the rope to. Her plan at the moment was to make sure that the vent didn't come off while Malfoy climbed. She felt the rope grow taut as he began to come up, and pressed herself against the top of the shaft in an effort to keep the vent cover from moving.

The rope went slack. "Malfoy?" Hermione whispered.

"I'm here," he replied breathlessly. Apparently he wasn't as good a climber as he'd thought.

Hermione didn't reply, but crawled through the shaft until she came to his cell. They pulled up his rope and replaced the grate, and then she directed him through the ventilation system. "Now, there should be another cover coming up. Does it lead to a cell, or to a hallway?" she asked.

"It doesn't look like a cell," he said hesitantly.

"That's the one, I think."

"You _think_?"

"Yes, I think," she growled. "It's not like I make a habit of doing this."

"Really? I would have guessed that you did," he said earnestly. Hermione frowned but didn't respond. She heard the grate groan as Lucius opened it. "Are you sure this is it?"

"If it's not a room, that's it," she snapped.

He dropped down to the floor below and Hermione crawled to the opening of the shaft. "There they are," she said, catching sight of Harry, Ron, and the younger Malfoy.

Hermione leaned down through the vent and called to them softly. Harry and Ron smiled as they approached, while Malfoy looked pensieve. Ignoring the blond Malfoys, Hermione focused her attention on the other two.

"Harry, here are the keys to my car," she said, fishing into her pocket and passing them down to him. "I want all four of you to go wait there. Neither Malfoys have a wand, but be careful. They probably have more than a few tricks up their sleeves, so keep a close eye on them." She looked over at the two blonds. "I don't think you'll get any trouble from Draco, but his father…"

"We know, Hermione," Ron said softly.

"Okay then. I'll meet you at my car in twenty minutes."

Her boys nodded, and she disappeared from their view. She pulled the cover back over the vent, then closed her eyes and envisioned the blueprints. Murmuring instructions to herself, she crawled through the ventilation shafts until she was looking down into an office.

Hermione lowered herself onto the desk and looked around warily. No one was in the office at the moment—she'd gotten lucky—but she couldn't depend on that fact for long. She pushed the grate over the opening until it was almost closed but would give easily and then inspected the office. The desk probably faced the main door, and so she went through the door beside a bookshelf on a different wall. Inside was a room with walls covered in shelves. She browsed through them until she found the label, "Lucius Malfoy" on the wood. His wand and a small box of trinkets lay on the shelf. She grabbed them and put them into a pocket of her robe, then left.

She paused in the ventilation shaft and pulled out the blueprints in the dim lighting above the office. Tracing her finger along the path she wanted, Hermione memorized the route and then continued on her way. After some time she saw a dim light at the end of the tunnel. She carefully pulled herself out of the opening and dropped a short ways onto the sharp rocks below. Hermione breathed deeply in the moonlight, grateful to be out of the confining ventilation shaft.

Making her way around to the front of Azkaban, Hermione went to the Apparition platform and Disapparated to her car. Because Harry couldn't Apparate, they had used a small boat to get to Azkaban originally, and Hermione was sure that the foursome had taken it back to the car for the same reason. When she arrived, the Malfoys were standing beside her trunk, conversing in quiet but harsh tones. Harry and Ron were watching them warily and jumped at her sudden appearance.

"Okay, now if everyone would please get into the car," Hermione said, taking her keys back from Harry. Harry took his usual backseat, and Draco Malfoy took the passenger seat, leaving Lucius to sit behind Hermione. "Ron," she murmured quietly, "Will you go to the Order and tell them we have Lucius and will need to have someone collect him so he can join Narcissa?"

"Of course," Ron said. "Where can I find you, though?"

"Do you remember where we stopped this morning?"

"Yeah. Should I meet you there?"

"Yes, at the hotel," she agreed.

"Okay, I'll see you there." He touched her arm tenderly. "Please be careful, Hermione," Ron said, before Disapparating with a pop.

* * *

_I gotta get outta here  
And I'm begging you,  
__I'm begging you,  
__I'm begging you to be my escape. _

I'm giving up on doing this alone now  
Cause I've failed and I'm ready to be shown how  
He's told me the way and I'm trying to get there  
And this life sentence that I'm serving  
I admit that I'm every bit deserving

—Reliant K, "Be My Escape"


	6. A Promise

A/N: I tried to put more Hermione/Draco in this chapter because I felt that the last one was rather lacking. Sorry it's so short.

Chapter 6: A Promise

Hermione's adrenaline rush from the escape had left her more tired than she had been previously, and it was hard to keep her eyes open. She led the way into the hotel and asked for two rooms, then paid for them and let everyone follow her upstairs. Hermione opened the door of the first room. "Everyone in," she ordered.

"But there aren't enough beds for—" The younger Malfoy began.

She raised an eyebrow. "We're not sleeping, Malfoy. We're waiting for Ron."

He fell silent and walked into the room, followed by Harry. Lucius Malfoy hesitated, still staring at the back of his son, and then he turned to her furiously. "What have you done to my son?"

"Excuse me?" she scoffed.

"Don't play dumb," he snapped. "I know who you are. I know almost everything about you, Mudblood Granger. You've done something to my son, and I want to know what."

"And you think I'm just going to tell you?" she asked him.

"That's exactly what you're going to do," he said, grasping her throat tightly in his hand and pinning her to the open door.

Hermione wriggled in his grip and reached up to clasp her hands around his arm in a vain effort to get him off of her. Her vision was edged with dark grey storm clouds that were increasingly blocking her sight. "I didn't—" she tried to gasp.

Lucius Malfoy squeezed her throat tighter in response and pulled her up onto her tiptoes. Her vision had gone almost entirely black when suddenly the pressure on her throat was gone. She slid to the floor gasping for breath and then felt someone's arm tighten comfortingly around her shoulder. Her vision cleared, she looked up to see Harry was crouching protectively beside her, wand out, while Draco Malfoy stood between his father and her. The Malfoys stared each other down.

This time, Draco Malfoy was not the first to look away. "If you ever touch her again I will gut you and let the rats eat your insides while you watch," he said in a low growl.

Hermione blinked rapidly. _Had _she been knocked out? Why was Draco Malfoy coming to her rescue? Beside her, Harry's jaw dropped and he looked like he too was trying to figure out what was going on.

Lucius Malfoy stared at his son, almost as shocked as Hermione and Harry. "I can see what has happened here now. She's slipped you a love potion, hasn't she? You think you're in love with her. Well, that can easily be fixed if you'll just come with me."

"I don't love her. In fact, I despise the Mudblood. But I hate you more," the teenager said, still glaring at his father. Lucius's face twitched in the phantom of a wince before it turned as stoic as stone. Hermione now saw where Draco had gotten his expressionless mask.

For some reason, it hurt for him to say that he despised her. Hermione frowned. She'd never had any illusions about his feelings for her—nor hers for him—but hearing him say that he despised her hurt. Perhaps it was that after all she'd done for him, he was still the same cold boy he'd always been. She sighed and leaned her head on Harry's shoulder. Things were so complicated, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

Abruptly, there were a few pops, and out of nowhere Ron appeared with Moody, Tonks, and Lupin. The Malfoys were still glowering at each other and didn't seem to have noticed their arrival. Ron took a look at Hermione and Harry and froze. She lifted her head from Harry's shoulder and he helped her shakily to her feet.

"Perhaps we should get inside the room," she suggested, then grimaced as her throat protested the use.

Ron's eyes widened and he hurried to her side. "What happened to you?"

"Malfoy decided the best way to figure out what I'd done to his son was to choke me. The only problem with his logic is that I neither did anything to his son nor can I speak while I'm being throttled." She smiled wanly at him.

He looked furious enough to kill, but Hermione grabbed his arm and leaned on it. Ron quickly checked himself and led her into the room, sitting her down and standing protectively beside her. Harry came next, followed by the Malfoys and the members of the Order.

"Moody, Lupin, Tonks, you know what to do with Malfoy, right?" Hermione said. She was losing the chance to talk to him about Horcruxes, but at the moment it didn't seem like he would be willing to give up that information.

"Of course," Lupin said. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Hermione said lightly.

"Okay, then I suppose we'll take him," Tonks said.

Moody walked over and grabbed Lucius Malfoy's arm. "Let's go," he said, Disapparating the two of them with a pop. Tonks waved goodbye and Disapparated too, but Lupin held back.

"I do hope the three of you know what you're doing," he said.

"Oh, right. Lupin," Hermione said, reaching inside her robes and pulling out the three wands. She put hers aside, then looked to Malfoy, who came over and picked his wand out. The third wand she handed to Lupin, "This is Malfoy's. You can decide to give it back to him or not, but don't lose it."

"Goodbye," Lupin said. "And good luck." He, too, Disapparated with a pop.

Hermione sighed and flopped down on the bed, suddenly exhausted. Ron came and sat beside her. "How many rooms do we have?" he asked.

"Two," she said, reaching inside her pocket and handing him the second set of keys. "I didn't know—" she yawned "—if we would actually be staying the night."

"I think we'll be staying the night," Harry said, reaching out and squeezing her hand.

"Okay," she murmured.

Ron leaned over and kissed her forehead, and then her boys left, leaving her alone with Malfoy. Hermione sat up in bed slowly and shrugged off her robe, then kicked off her shoes and slid under the blankets in her jeans and tee-shirt. She was asleep before there was even time to wait for Malfoy to change into his nice self.

Sometime during the night, Hermione woke up. She didn't know what had awoken her, but she didn't fall back to sleep immediately, as was normal for her. Hermione rolled over onto her side and curled up deep into her blankets but when sleep didn't come in a few minutes, she opened her eyes in annoyance.

Draco Malfoy was standing by the window, looking up at the moon. Hermione sat up in bed. "Malfoy?"

He spun around and hastily wiped his eyes. "Granger, what are you doing up?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "Are—are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said.

Hermione didn't say anything for a long minute in which they simply stared at each other. "I don't think you're fine."

Malfoy's face crumpled and he turned back to the window so she couldn't see his face. "I don't really hate my father," he confessed. "There are times, though, a lot of times, where he does things I don't approve of. Things that are awful and cruel and illogical. Sometimes I think he just likes to see people squirm. Not, mind you, that he's ever touched me or my mother. He's great when he's not feeling sadistic, though. He's not always a bad example, a bad father."

Hermione stared at his back and didn't say anything. "I don't hate him," he said again, as if trying to convince himself. "But I don't love him. And I think after this he's not going to love me anymore either."

She hesitated, then, "It's like what I said about you. You're not bad, but you're not exactly good."

He laughed dryly. "Something like that." He didn't say anything for a minute, and then asked, "How's your throat?"

Hermione shrugged. "It's been better," she said wryly, reaching up and touching it lightly. Wincing as her fingers hit bruised flesh, she put her hand back down. She paused again. "Malfoy, about today…"

"I didn't do it for you, Granger. I did it because…" He stopped abruptly, and turned toward her enough that she could see his profile. Malfoy was trying to work out a reason for saving her. Opening his mouth, he closed it again while he struggled to find the words. "Look, after everything you went through today to get him out of Azkaban, you didn't deserve that. I don't agree with you on everything, Granger, but you have helped me when I needed help the most, and you've saved my parents from the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. Even if I don't like you very much, Granger, I respect you. And I respect you especially for everything you've done for me and my family—"

"Malfoy, it was—"

"NO!" he yelled, turning towards her. He looked furious, and the fact that half of him was in shadow while the other half was bathed in moonlight had a rather sinister effect. Hermione glanced at the bedside table to be sure her wand was in reach. "Don't you dare tell me it was nothing, don't you tell me it was part of some grand plan you have. I know it wasn't, and I'm trying to say thank you but every time I try you interrupt me!"

She looked at him but he was silent and didn't continue. "I think," she said carefully, "That you stopping your father today was quite a large thank you."

Malfoy sighed, glanced one last time up at the moon and then walked across the room to his bed. He pulled off his shirt and his shoes, then wiggled out of his jeans and got under the blankets. She turned onto her other side so that she could look at him.

Hermione hesitated. She wanted to ask him something, wanted to ask him because she felt it was important somehow. She didn't know how, but she knew that she had to ask, had to know. "Malfoy," she began, and then paused to take a deep breath. "Malfoy, when you threatened your father…" he didn't say anything, forcing her to say all of the words, forcing her to admit she'd been thinking about it, "…were you serious?"

The last came out as barely a whisper, but she knew that he heard it because he rolled onto his back to look at the ceiling. "Yes," he whispered back. "If he ever touches you again, Granger, I'll kill him."

"Do you promise?" This she barely breathed, and she didn't know where it came from either. _What am I doing? _she wondered vaguely. Maybe she was just too tired to be thinking clearly, or something, but right then, that night, it seemed the right thing to do. A clandestine, moonlight promise of protection between two people who barely liked each other somehow seemed appropriate. Perhaps Hermione was just scared of Lucius Malfoy and wanted to know that someone would be there to save her.

Maybe she just wanted to know that someone would be there for her.

"I promise," Malfoy said, turning back to look at her.

Hermione smiled softly, unsure of what she'd initiated. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Granger," he agreed and they closed their eyes together, unable to fathom what they had just done.

Her last thought was of Ron. _I'm not betraying him,_ she thought guiltily. _He wasn't here for me. Besides, this doesn't mean anything…does it? I like Ron, not Malfoy. But Ron isn't…_ Hermione sighed. _Ron's sweet, but he hasn't really made a move towards me, and I can't wait for him forever._

Feeling distinctly like she'd betrayed Ron, Hermione went to sleep.

* * *

When she woke up next, it was because sunlight was streaming in through the window. Hermione yawned and stretched, then looked across to Malfoy's bed. She wasn't surprised to see that he was sound asleep. He looked calm as usual, but the fact that his hair wasn't meticulously primped gave him a casual look that he rarely accomplished. His left arm was outside of the blankets and thrown across the bed, and she though she tried not to stare at his Dark Mark, she'd never seen one up close and was curious. 

Hermione crossed the room and stood by his bed, staring down at the Dark Mark. It looked almost exactly like a tattoo, except with black ink that changed hues depending on the light. She almost wanted to touch it but decided against such an action. That might wake him up.

"Admiring it, Granger, or just trying not to vomit?"

"Neither," she said quickly, embarrassed she'd been caught. "I was just looking at it."

"That's so like you," he said, shifting his arm so she couldn't see the mark. "But I'd rather not be on display, thank you."

Hermione took a few steps back as he opened his eyes. They looked at her curiously, and then there was a flicker of remembrance and his expression turned thoughtful. "We need to leave here," he said, getting out of bed and pulling on his clothes. "If that security guard wakes up the Ministry will be after us in two seconds. And though you're _more _inconspicuous that Potter or Weasley, I'm sure they'll figure out who you are too eventually."

She nodded. That made sense. "It's almost a pity we're not at Hogwarts. McGonagall would be able to keep them off us for a while if we were, at least."

"She's no—" he stopped himself, his back stiffening as he continued to dress.

Hermione gave him a tight smile. "No, she's no Dumbledore. But she's not a bad headmistress either, and though she wouldn't be able to keep them from us for as long as Dumbledore would have, maybe, she'd still give us some time." When Malfoy looked at her next, his mask of cold indifference was in place. "Malfoy," she began, "You didn't kill him. And you weren't about to. It's not your fault."

"You don't know what I was about to do," he said harshly.

At that she silenced herself, because he seemed very uncomfortable with the subject. She pulled on her shoes and robe and walked down the hall to Harry and Ron's room. When they did not answer her knocks, she unlocked the door with her wand and went into the room to wake them. "How'd you get in here?" Harry asked her blearily.

"Magic," she said pointedly. He smiled sheepishly at her. "I tried knocking but no one answered. Get up you two, we have to go. We're too close to Azkaban, the Ministry will come looking for us and if we're not as far away as we can get, they'll probably catch us."

"Okay, okay, give us a few minutes," Harry said.

Hermione sighed. "Fine, be at the car in a few minutes. If you're not there then I won't be so nice about waking you next time."

"What's got her in such a bad mood?" she heard Ron whisper to Harry on her way out. She slammed the door behind her and stormed out to the car.

In the car, Hermione took a minute to calm herself down and figure out why she was being so moody. _The promise…_she thought. _Stupid promise. Why did I even say that? That was so stupid of me._

_Why did he promise me he'd protect me?_

She leaned her head against the steering wheel. "I didn't mean to betray you, Ron," she whispered to herself. "I want you, not him, but…please, ask me out or tell me that you love me, or do something to claim me as yours. Please," she said sadly, "Don't just do things so that I know you want me back. Do something to make _us _real and not just a flirtation between friends."

There was a tap on the opposite window and she snapped her head up. Malfoy stood impatiently outside, so she reached over and unlocked the door so he could get in. He did, and they sat together in an uncomfortable silence until Harry and Ron came out a few minutes later.

"Now where?" Hermione asked.

Harry and Ron looked at her blankly. Sighing, she turned to look out the windshield while she thought. "Does it matter?" Malfoy asked after a minute. "Just drive, and we'll figure out where to go later."

Giving Harry and Ron a scathing look, she muttered, "Sounds good to me," and peeled out of the parking lot.

--

Hermione drove until almost midnight and then she pulled into a large hotel by the roadside. "We'll stay here tonight," she said, "Because I can barely keep my eyes open."

Malfoy woke up as soon as she began speaking, but Harry and Ron were more difficult to wake. A few minutes later, the four of them trooped into the hotel and asked for three rooms. They were handed their keys and then they pulled their trunks upstairs to their rooms.

Hermione was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Hermione didn't wake up the next morning until almost nine in the morning. She yawned, stretched, and then got up. Her stomach growled at her for not feeding it sufficiently the day before, so she dressed quickly and went to wake up her three companions to go downstairs to breakfast.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy picked a table in a secluded corner of the room. The first three sat together, Harry in the middle, while Malfoy was very careful that his seat was as far away from all three of them as it could be. "Where do you think we should go now, Harry?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head, hopelessness etched upon his features. "I don't know," he said honestly.

Hermione paused, thinking. "Do you…do you think perhaps he left one at Godric's Hollow? I know—"

Ron snorted, cutting her off. "If you didn't notice, we've already been there. There was nothing at all in that house."

"We weren't looking for one when we went there," Hermione pointed out. "It could be somewhere that we didn't check. We didn't even look through the whole house, just the ground floors. What if he put it in the basement or upstairs?"

"Why would he put it in a stupid place like that?" Ron snarled.

"Because people don't check basements normally!" Hermione said angrily. She stood up and leaned heavily on the table to get closer to him. "Harry said that they were in places of significance to him. What place is more significant than Godric's Hollow?" To emphasize her point she jabbed the table with her finger several times.

Ron stood up as well, and Hermione straightened. Everything in their stances was belligerent. "He wouldn't put it in some place where he almost was finished off," he yelled.

"Maybe he would! I think we should go back and check!" Hermione shouted back.

"I think that you should stop thinking and let Harry choose where we're going because he would know better than you!"

Hermione looked at Harry, a mixture of guilt and accusation on her face. How could Ron say that when she'd spent weeks of her time practically living in Flourish and Blotts? When Harry remained silent, her only words were, "I see," and she was gone.

Up several flights of stairs, Hermione realized she didn't know where she was going. Abruptly she turned another corner to find, not more stairs, but a wall. She swirled, feeling distinctly confined, and went out the door directly opposite her, only to be immediately battered by a gust of wind. Without a thought, she stalked angrily to the low wall of the roof and leaned up against it, letting herself cool off in the morning breeze.

The presence at her side was impossible to ignore, but she did so for a while. "I'm sorry," she acceded at last. "I guess I should try to be less bossy."

"It doesn't matter to me," Malfoy said, taking a step so that he stood level with her instead of slightly behind. She set her jaw and looked out over the city. Until that second, she had been sure, had even been hoping a little, that it was Ron behind her. It would be the action she was waiting for from him. "Here," Malfoy said, holding a muffin out in front of her. "I noticed you hadn't eaten anything. It's blueberry," he said encouragingly.

Startled by the sudden act of kindness, Hermione turned and looked up at him. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, hesitantly taking the muffin from his hand. She still didn't understand what had made him want so desperately to leave the Death Eaters that he would come to join the despised Golden Trio.

Malfoy shrugged and looked out over the city. "I'd rather be in your company than Potter's or Weasley's," he answered carefully. "You're the only one of them that's even partially tolerable. Weasley is loud and violent and Potter has that whole 'I have to save the world' thing. You only read or think, neither of which is loud and obnoxious." His mouth twisted strangely in a half smile, "Until Weasley steps in, of course."

She was oddly touched at the compliment, but more amused at him. "You know that's not what I was asking," she accused quietly, taking a bite of the muffin.

He smirked broadly and didn't even glance at her as he replied, "I know."

Laughter bubbled up out of her before she could stop it. It felt good to laugh, she realized dimly. She had been spending far too much time worrying about helping Harry save the world and far too little remembering that life was supposed to be enjoyed. Smiling brilliantly, she turned to Malfoy. "Thank you," she said. "For the laugh."

Malfoy gave her a half-smile that implied she was crazy, but Hermione didn't care. She took another bite of her muffin and looked down at the waking city below.

* * *

_When you need someone  
I promise I'll be there for you (there for you)  
I promise _

--Stacie Orrico, "I Promise"


	7. Godric's Hollow Part II

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to get up. I had writer's block, as I didn't have any clue how this was going to play out. And then...well, my life kinda sucks right now, but I'm working on getting over it. Anyway. This chapter began to get way too long, so I had to cut it off...I've got about half of chapter 8 now, because of what was leftover from this. This is still 13 whole pages on ms word, though, so...yeah. It was pretty long.

Enjoy!

Chapter 7: Godric's Hollow Part II

Eventually her muffin was gone, her anger was cooled, and the wind was too chilly for Hermione to remain on the roof. "I think it's time to go back in," she said wanly to her companion.

Malfoy shrugged and led the way across the rooftop. He pulled open the door and walked onto the stairwell, not bothering to hold the door open for her. Hermione smiled wryly—despite his promise, he was still the same self-centered Malfoy she had always known. That reassured her some, and so she descended the stairs with a sense of calm that everything was back to normal in her world.

Ron sat sulkily at the breakfast table, and Harry was looking guilty beside him. They both glared suspiciously at Malfoy before turning to her. "We'll go to Godric's Hollow," Harry acceded.

She hesitated—if she was wrong about this, Ron would never let her forget it. On the other hand, it could gain them a Horcrux. "Okay. We'll leave after breakfast."

They did just that, and when the four teenagers settled into the car there was an uneasy tension in the air. Ron was still sullen, but he now had a frustrated, embarrassed air, as if he wanted to apologize but couldn't find the words. Harry was restless because of the quarrel between Ron and Hermione, while Hermione was unnaturally calm. Malfoy was the only one who seemed completely unaffected, and leaned up against the window per usual.

Hermione began to drive, and about an hour after, the charged feeling had become more relaxed. "I'm sorry," Ron muttered behind her.

She adjusted the rearview mirror to look back at him. "It's fine, Ron."

He shrugged uncomfortably and settled into his seat. Not long after, he was asleep. Hermione grinned and turned to Harry instead. "Some people can't help but sleep in a car, I suppose," she said to him.

Harry was almost as amused as she was, "It would seem so," he agreed, glancing at Ron sheepishly. "Hermione, I really don't know if you're right. Going back to Godric's Hollow was just the only real idea any of us had as to where it could be."

"We've got to start someplace," Hermione said philosophically. "I'd rather have us double-check your parent's house and not find anything than have us not check it and realize later that there was a Horcrux there. Harry, tell me again about the one in the cave."

"Well…" Harry began, retelling the tale. "…then I wiped my arm across the stone—it was bleeding, remember, and the archway opened up. Dumbledore and I walked through, and then we went out into the water and we got out to the rocks outside and I Apparated us to Hogsmeade. You know the rest of the story from there."

Hermione frowned in thought. Malfoy's cold mask was back in place, she noticed. Apparently he didn't like to remember that night very much. She didn't blame him.

"Hmm," she hummed. "So there was a hidden door. I don't know how to…did Dumbledore say anything about the door? How he found it, perhaps?"

Harry was silent for a long time—Hermione almost thought that he'd fallen asleep, but then he answered. "He ran his hands over the wall a lot and then…he said it was…primitive?" There was another pause. "Crude. He said it was crude. It was almost as if he was…disappointed that Voldemort was asking for blood."

"Okay, so if he did put one at Godric's Hollow it might be more or less complex than that, but we should probably expect it to need payment."

"He always asks for payment," Malfoy said unexpectedly next to her.

Hermione turned to him in surprise but he was still looking out the window at the countryside rolling past.

Ron gave a soft snore in the backseat, breaking the awkward silence that followed Malfoy's comment. "Then…" Hermione said slowly, "I guess we'll have to be prepared for that." She hesitated, and then asked, "Is it always blood?"

Malfoy shifted his head slightly and she barely glimpsed his face before he looked out the window again. "Not always," he answered in a voice that was stone cold and brooked no response.

Suddenly everything became uncomfortable in the car. Harry squirmed in his seat and Hermione focused on her driving while Malfoy laid his forehead against the window with a soft thud. Hermione didn't dare ask what Voldemort's payment was when he wasn't asking for blood and Malfoy's tone had made it clear he wouldn't expand on what he'd said.

Ron groaned and blinked sleepily. He looked out the window drowsily and then tapped Hermione on the shoulder. She looked up at him in the rearview mirror. "Yes?"

"Is it time for lunch yet?"

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle and mentally praise Ron his ability to break the ice. "I think now would be a good time to stop. Is anyone else hungry?" she asked. They'd only been driving for a few hours, but getting out of the car for a bit would probably help to clear the air.

"I can eat," Harry quickly offered. Apparently he hadn't liked the silence any more than she.

Malfoy said nothing, as expected, and Hermione drove another five minutes before coming up on a town. She drove around slowly until Ron suddenly shouted, "There!"

Hermione came to a stop and got out of the car to look at the place Ron had picked. "Here?" she asked dubiously. The restaurant was small and nondescript except for a large flashing sign in the window. "Waffles so good they're like magic!" the sign shimmered at them.

"Ron, you're not just coming here because of that sign, are you?" Hermione asked dubiously.

"Of course I am," he said, "I want waffles."

"But—" Hermione began, then stopped. "Okay. Waffles sound good," she said, letting Ron lead them into the restaurant. They sat down and ordered, and Ron and Harry began discussing the new broom that was due to come out, the Lightningbolt.

"It's supposed to be even faster than your Firebolt, Harry," Ron said in awe.

"I know. Did you see the picture of it? The handle's going to be made out of ebony. It's going to be beautiful."

"Hey, think I can get the twins to buy me one?" Ron mused.

Harry wrinkled his nose dubiously. "Probably not, but you may as well try."

"Yeah," Ron said with a heavy sigh.

"Why do you need a new broom? You won't be playing quidditch for a long while," Hermione pointed out. "And if you ever do, it won't be at Hogwarts, where you're playing for real competition. At most, you'll probably just be playing with Ginny and maybe some of your brothers."

Ron gave her a sour look for ruining his fantasies, and then sighed again. "I suppose you're right."

Their second breakfasts came and the four dug in heartily. "These _are_ good waffles," Hermione said in an attempt to soothe Ron's bruised ego. "Good choice, Ron."

He flicked his gaze up at her in acknowledgement and continued to scarf down his waffles.

They got into the car and continued on the way to Godric's Hollow. It was dark before they reached the small muggle town, so they settled into a hotel for the night.

* * *

The morning dawned and Hermione rose with the sun. She showered and dressed, then woke up her three companions. Soon they all left the hotel, went and got a quick breakfast, and then, armed with their wands, progressed to the post office. "This may be a fool's mission," Hermione mumbled as they approached the witch. "But if it's not…" 

The three boys nodded, their faces turning grim and the woman showed them again the dance steps they needed to get into the wizarding part of Godric's Hollow. After watching the Golden Trio attempt to open the door, Malfoy roughly pushed Hermione away and opened the gateway on his first try. Harry and Ron glared at him, looking half-angry and half-miffed, but Hermione cocked her head slightly to the side, wondering.

Recovering, Harry led them into the little lane, gazing at the seven cozy cottages. Nothing had changed in the few weeks they'd spent away. The four walked straight toward the third house on their left, not bothering to admire the other homes as previously. Right outside the decaying Potter house they paused simultaneously. Harry reached over and opened the door. The scene had a surreal air to it and try as she might to contain herself, Hermione couldn't help but snicker. _It's almost like we're in a movie. This is ridiculous, we're being so overdramatic about this_.

Everyone's eyes turned to her and she shrugged guiltily. No one had said a word the whole time, and it seemed wrong to begin now, so in silence the four walked into the cottage. They hesitated again, unsure of where to begin.

Hermione cleared her throat and looked around nervously. "I think we should check first to see if there are any locked doors or doors we can't open," she whispered.

They nodded and her group dispersed around her, leaving her standing alone in the immaculate, if dusty, front room. Hermione approached the fireplace and cast a quick revealing charm. Nothing showed up, so she straightened and looked around the room. There weren't other doors or obvious places for secret passages, so Hermione retreated into the destroyed room beyond.

Stepping over piano keys, Hermione approached the lonely, unharmed chair in the corner and examined the wall behind it. Since she didn't find anything, she bit her lip and peered into the next room, the one with the bookcase. A door was open in the corner, with nothing but a softly illuminated blackness beyond. Hermione approached it and peered down the steps into the basement. "Did you find anything?" she asked to whomever may be down there.

Malfoy came to the foot of the steps and shook his head. "I'm still looking."

Hermione stepped back again, beginning to think bringing everyone back to Godric's Hollow was a bad idea. She spared a glance for the kitchen, but Ron was in there so she instead moved up the stairs. A door was open at the end of the hall, and she approached it warily. "Anything?" she asked Harry. He shook his head and she moved down the hall.

A bathroom, dusty but unharmed, was the first door she opened. Though Slytherin had once used a bathroom as the portal to his secret chamber, she didn't think Voldemort would do so. Hermione moved on.

The next door was a bedroom with a small bed on it. Hermione stepped in, feeling suddenly melancholy. This was probably the room Lily and James had planned for Harry, if the decorating scheme said anything. Footsteps passed behind her in the hall, making Hermione jump, but then she swallowed her fear and pried open the closet doors. Nothing was inside except for a few baby clothes hanging. She reached out and touched one just as someone called out, "Here!"

Jumping again, Hermione chastised herself for being so edgy and went out into the hall. Harry was already halfway down the steps and she followed him downstairs and to the door of the basement. They saw Ron's red hair disappearing into the darkness below and, after lighting the tips of their wands they went down after him.

Malfoy was standing before a blank wall, looking at it with consternation. Ron was staring at him incredulously. Even with the light of the four wands, Hermione couldn't see anything special about the wall. "Are you sure?" Harry dubiously ventured first.

The blond boy turned and sneered at him. "I grew up in Malfoy Manor. I know how to tell where there's a hidden opening," he snapped. His brows knit together and he approached the wall again and put his hand to it, closing his eyes. Ron, Harry, and Hermione all exchanged a glance.

"Okay, then," Harry said after a silence, "Let's go."

Malfoy looked at him in alarm, then went back to the wall and placed both his palms on it. "Not that easy, Potter. This door…" he muttered, eyes closed. He looked as though he were concentrating very hard, and then his eyes opened wide in surprise and he stepped back. "I see," he murmured. Hermione looked at him in confusion but Malfoy didn't offer up his insight to anyone.

"Granger," Malfoy said slowly, not looking at her, but at the wall. "You know healing charms, right?"

"Of course, but—"

Malfoy's hand was shaking and he pressed it flat against the cold, stone wall. "Don't close the door," he commanded them. "If you do, I _won't _make any effort to open it again."

Hermione's eyes widened, but then narrowed. "You're not coming?" she asked suspiciously.

He looked at her, a smirk playing about his lips, as he said, in a maddeningly patient tone, "Someone has to pay the price for opening the door, don't they?"

"Malfoy, what is going to happen?" Hermione asked cautiously.

His smirk widened but he said nothing for a minute, letting her imagination run amok with horrible things. "Just hurry up in there, okay?" he said at last. Hermione nodded slowly. "Good," Malfoy muttered. Harry and Ron were still watching him suspiciously as he pulled a knife out of his pocket and pulled off his shirt.

"What are you—" Hermione asked in alarm. She fought the urge to look away from him, worried that he might take off more clothing next. Malfoy snickered at her and unfolded the pocketknife, then twisted around, examining his back. He pressed the blade to the skin of his back and flicked it across the flesh, making a cut about eight centimeters long. Blood welled to the skin and began to drip. Malfoy put his finger slightly below the cut and waited until it was red with blood before taking it away and pressing it to the wall in a half-circle.

Nothing happened. Malfoy had his finger against his back again, catching more blood as he smeared it on the wall, completing the circle. A line came next, and Hermione realized he was spelling something. Everyone waited with bated breath for what would come next. The flow of blood was slowing, so he lengthened the cut and continued. By the end Malfoy was hard pressed to finish but at last he drew one final line.

Hermione looked at the wall, the word "OPEN" shining oddly in the wandlight. Nothing happened for a long moment and then there was a soft rasp of stone grating on stone and two handles appeared on the wall, a small crack appearing between. Harry and Ron grasped the handles and pulled the doors open.

Malfoy released a deep shuddering breath and sat down cross-legged. "Are you okay?" Hermione muttered.

"Go," Malfoy snapped.

Hermione gathered up her wand and her courage and met Harry and Ron at the gaping opening of the wall. The trio walked down the stairs at their feet, Hermione casting one last worried glance at Malfoy just before he disappeared from view.

They entered a room where torches glowed softly. A table sat in the middle of the room with an unlit candle, and there were five doors in the wall across. The trio approached the scrap of parchment on the table.

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us five will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport you elsewhere instead,_

_Two among our number conceal certain demise,_

_One of us will be eternal darkness before your eyes,_

_Choose, unless you wish to this task ignore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly help tries to hide,_

_You will always find some on certain death's right side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see, not all handles the shape sustain,_

_Neither up nor down contain pain;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are different once you open them, though twins at first sight._

Hermione looked at the paper and burst into a short-lived giggle. Harry and Ron were looking at her like she was insane. "Don't you see?" she said with a grin, "It's Snape! The wording is almost exactly the same as in the logic puzzle to get to the mirror back in our first year."

The two boys looked at each other, then at the paper again. "Oh, yes, we see quite clearly," Ron muttered sarcastically. Frowning, Hermione snatched the paper from them and read it again, then looked up at the doors. They were all the same size and shape, but as in the puzzle, the handles were different. The two farthest to the left had round knobs, as did the second on the right. The middle door had a vertical handle, and the farthest on the right had a horizontal one.

Hermione leaned on the table to think.

There was a strangled cry above, and the trio startled, looking up the stairs behind them. Hermione shivered but looked back to the paper. It had been Malfoy's choice, although she was curious as to what was happening.

"So the ones that lead to death have to be ones with knobs," Hermione mumbled under her breath. "And the dark one and transporting one and the one we want are the last one on the right and the middle and the second on the left. To get to the Horcrux, we don't want either of the ends, that's clear enough. So the door we want is either in the middle or second on the left."

She paused at the next bit of the puzzle. '_Neither up nor down contain pain'_… _so the middle and the one on the right won't hurt us if we go in them. And if the second right is certain death then the second left isn't. Which means the far left has to be certain death…_

Hermione hesitated. The far right was out of the question—it had to be the transportation door, though she didn't know where it transported you to. She was examining the second left and middle door, trying to work out which one they wanted from the conflicting clues. It wouldn't hurt to go through the middle door, but help was always on death's right side—the second door on the left.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Think it'll hurt somehow to get the Horcrux?" Hermione asked, beginning to understand. That would mean that the middle door held eternal darkness. _Snape is losing his touch, _she thought. _Or perhaps he wanted us to be able to get through. Why else would he have even bothered to leave the note? But if we could solve it, surely someone else could as well…_ Shaking her head, her attention returned to her friends long enough to hear Harry's answer to her question.

"Probably," he said with a shrug.

Hermione smirked and went to the second door on the left. "Then let's go." She hesitated, then twisted the knob and pulled open the door….

…Darkness loomed before her, and Hermione felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. But, no, there was a light in the darkness, a shimmering blue light. She smiled and cocked her head to the side, following the fluctuating blue orb. "Hermione!" someone snapped, grabbing her arm forcibly. "Pay attention," Harry snapped at her.

Ron released his grip on her arm and the three of them began their way down a steep path. Hermione saw the glittering orb again. It seemed to call to her, taunting her, promising her knowledge she could never find in books. Her feet slowed and she took a step toward the light. Soft muck came up and enveloped her foot, seeping into her shoe instantly. Hermione wouldn't have even noticed, so entranced was she by the light, except that Ron once again grabbed her arm and hauled her back onto the path.

"But it's so pretty," Hermione complained, dimly wondering what was happening to her. It wasn't like her at all to be so empty-headed, and Harry…Harry needed her. The orb fluttered into her vision again, and she smiled softly at it. "It's all right," she told it in a singsong voice. "I'll come to you, I promise."

Hermione tried to step off the path again, but Ron wrapped her in his arms tight. His eyes looked wildly to Harry. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded.

Harry looked at Hermione, who giggled and reached out to touch an orb neither of the boys could see. "Come back!" she exclaimed as it floated away from her. She struggled in Ron's grip, refusing to let all that knowledge get away from her. He held her tighter.

"She opened a door," Harry said quietly as he realized. "She paid the price for opening a door."

"Fuck," Ron growled, then snatched the wand from Hermione's hand before she could use it on him and handed it to Harry. Hermione pouted at him, but forgot her irritation as she saw the orb again. Ron took a firm grip on one of her arms and indicated that Harry should continue. Harry's attention, however, was out to the side of the path.

For a sickening moment, Hermione was conscious enough to hope that Harry wasn't afflicted with whatever she was. Then the orb wiped away all of her thoughts and she squirmed against Ron again, whose hold on her seemed unbreakable.

"Is that…moving?" Ron asked in awe, staring at the muck on either side of the path.

"Yes. We need to keep going," Harry said.

"Inferi," Ron muttered in recognition. He gave Hermione a sharp yank as she tried to get away again and then followed Harry. Hermione's feet made a squelching noise with every other step, and it made both Harry and Ron jumpy.

The path sloped down and stopped abruptly. Hermione squirmed out of Ron's grip and almost managed to get away but Ron tackled her, sending them both crashing to the floor. He half got up, then thought better of it and sat on her. Hermione wriggled around on the floor, trying to get out from under Ron, to follow the light, but his weight was too much. She didn't stop trying, though. Harry, ignoring the struggle between the two, looked around the room.

It was high-ceilinged, and appeared to be made mostly of dirt. As of yet, nothing was attacking him, which was fortunate, but he knew that would change as soon as he tried to get the Horcrux. Then they would have to get outside, with the inferi lying in wait for them in the muck that lined the path.

"Ron, do you know how to transfigure a jar?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Ron replied, mildly offended.

"And you know those floating fires Hermione does so well?"

"I don't think I—"

"See if you can get Hermione to do it. We're going to need to get out of here somehow, and with her in this state, there's no way we'll make it up that path unless we're prepared."

Ron nodded grimly and picked up a pebble, transforming it into a thin glass jar. He created twenty of these, and then turned to Hermione and asked her to help him. "I'll let you go if you help me," he coaxed her sweetly. She refused, and he continued to cajole her into helping.

Meanwhile, Harry was approaching the small dais in front of him. He paused just before stepping up on it and was relieved that he had when he saw the surface. It was porous, with glittering, needle-like things beneath. If he had stepped up onto it…Harry shuddered to think of that outcome.

"_Accio Horcrux,_" he tried, though he didn't really think it would help.

Nothing happened; Harry sighed. Pulling off one of his shoes, he lightly tossed it onto the platform. Immediately the needles beneath shot up, drilling holes straight through the soles of his shoe, and then raining back down to land lightly in their individual compartments. "So much for that," Harry muttered. In the background he heard Ron coaxing Hermione into making him little fires.

"_Accio shoe,_" he said, and his shoe slid back to him. Harry put it on his foot even though it was ruined and sat about thinking how to get the Horcrux. "Ron, I know you're busy, but can you do that levicorpus charm on me? Then while I'm upside down I need you to move me over to the middle of this platform."

Hermione looked up at Harry. She was now lying on the floor on her belly, with Ron straddling her back so she wouldn't get away. "He's going to let me go once I've filled all of these," she said proudly. "He promised. And then I'm going to go and catch it, and I'll know everything."

Ron looked down at her with a grimace. "Hermione, I need my wand back for a minute, but I'll give it to you again after I'm done."

"No!" she cried frantically, "You're never going to give it back, and then I won't fill them all up, and you'll never let me go," she said, bursting into tears.

Looking shocked but recovering quickly, Ron reached down and snatched the wand from her grip. "_Levicorpus,_" he said, and watched as Harry flipped upside-down. "_Locomotor,_" he cast, then directed Harry with his wand.

Harry looked down at the bowl below him. It had a shiny cover over it, but beneath that was something golden. "Okay, this is good, if you could just lower me a little bit…"

Ron did so, and Harry pulled out his wand. The blood was rushing to his head, making it hard to think. "_Diffindo!_" Nothing happened, and he sighed again. Voldemort certainly didn't like to make things easy for him.

Harry reached down and poked the surface with his wand. It gave under pressure, bowing inward. Deeming it safe to touch, he reached down and tentatively poked it with his finger and found it to be as hard as glass. Harry tried again with his wand, and it dipped in, then tried with his hand, finding it immobile. "Well, then," he muttered to himself. "That was easier than I expected."

Carefully, he put his wand into the bowl and pushed the Horcrux up the side. At one point it wobbled dangerously and he was worried it would fall back to the middle of the bowl, but he was lucky. "Ron," he called out, "I need you to move me over to your left just a little."

Hermione squirmed beneath him, causing sweat to break out on Ron's forehead. Despite the fact that he was simply sitting on Hermione, filling jars with fire, Ron knew that what Harry was doing was dangerous and if he messed up even slightly, it could mean the death of the Boy Who Lived. Pinning Hermione with his knees more securely, Ron twitched his wand a little bit. "A little more," Harry instructed him. Ron did so. "There! Stop," Harry said.

Relaxing a bit, Ron looked down. Only sixteen jars were filled with fire, but it would have to do.

Harry had the Horcrux almost at the edge. Once it was outside the surface he could grab it and pull it the rest of the way out. Being upside down was making his head pound, but he had to keep up his concentration. A curl of gold breached the shiny top and Harry reached down and pulled the object the rest of the way out.

All at once, the needles in the floor shot up into the air. Had Harry somehow been standing beside the bowl he would have been killed instantly. As it was, he was hanging over the basin, and because the needles weren't meant to destroy that, Harry was safe. The needles rained back down around Harry, who clasped his arms to his torso and tried to make himself as small as possible. The needles fell silent in their respective holes and Harry was levitated over to the ground and righted.

There were squelching sounds outside as the inferi rose from the muck. Ron levitated the jars of fire and got to his feet, pulling Hermione up with him. Harry had a grim look on his face and they met eyes for a brief second before they both began to run. "_Flagrate!_" Harry shouted, slashing at the inferi that blocked his path.

Ron flicked his wand and four jars of fire hit the ground to either side of them. He and Harry sprinted up the slope, Ron towing Hermione behind him as best he could. "The light!" she shrieked, adding to the plethora of noises. "The light!"

More fire-jars exploded around them, and by then Ron was out. "_Incendio_!" he shouted, and flames burst out of the tip of his wand. There was a rectangle of light before them, and he and Harry sprinted for it, the inferi clawing at their clothing but their only thought was for getting out the door. Hermione yanked Ron backward and they fell together as Ron still gripped Hermione's arm. "Fuck, Hermione!" he growled, quickly getting to his feet as the inferi swarmed over them. Hermione was sobbing, and with effort Ron managed to tightly grab her arm again and right her, constantly casting spells to keep the inferi off of them. Ron began to run again, and Hermione stumbled along behind him, still screaming but by now her words were unintelligible.

"No!" Hermione screeched, clawing at the doorframe, but Ron gave an almighty jerk and tumbled to the floor with her once again. "The light!" she yelled as Harry pushed his weight into the door and it shut with a loud snap.

Harry slid his back down the door, looking at his two friends on the floor. Hermione was kneeling on the floor, one hand on Ron's knee and her other on the ground. She stared at the door, tears running down her cheeks at her loss. "I—I" she stammered. There was a long pause, and then, "I think it's time to go," she said, still crying.

Ron groaned from the floor and Harry helped him to his feet. Hermione was standing, looking lost, but when they gazed to her expectantly she led the way up the stairs.

Hermione stopped abruptly. "Malfoy!" she yelped, rushing toward him. The boy was lying on his stomach in a puddle of red blood. His torso barely rose and fell, but at least he was breathing. His back was a welter of cuts, and though most were approximately the same size as the one he had originally cut, others were longer, and all were far deeper. "Oh, no, Merlin, no," Hermione said, frantically reaching through her clothes. "My wand!" she snapped at Harry, who scrambled to give it to her.

"_Episkey! Episkey, episkey!_" Hermione said in a rush, trying to heal all the scratches. It looked like Malfoy had been whipped. Before her eyes, another scratch opened up and began to bleed. She continued to run the healing spell over all the wounds. "Close the fucking doors!" She yelled at Harry and Ron, who were standing there and gaping.

They did so, and then came to kneel beside Malfoy's body also. "_Episkey_," they all said, and the work went much quicker. After the wounds were healed, Hermione rolled him over onto his back. Malfoy was far paler than he should have been, but he still breathed. "_Bloody hell_," Hermione growled, "We need help."

"We can't. There's no way to explain this to a normal doctor, and any mediwitch we run into is going to recognize us. The wizarding world can't find us—we can't afford for them to," Harry said rationally.

"But—"

"Malfoy knew that he was getting into," Ron said harshly. Hermione looked at them, eyes blazing, but she knew they were right.

Turning back to the pale boy in front of her, she snapped, "Malfoy, don't you dare die on me. I will _not _forgive you for that."

A soft smile curled Malfoy's lips as his eyes fluttered open. "Granger," he sighed. "Knew you'd…come…" he said with effort, and then his eyes closed again as he fainted.

--

_This could be a movie  
and this could be our final act  
We don't need these happy endings  
_

--Funeral For A Friend, "Drive"


	8. Healing Process

A/N: First I'd like to say thank you to my reviewers for being so supportive. An especial thanks to people who like how subtle I am being with Hermione/Draco's relationship. Personally, most of the really good ones are written that way, and I'm trying my best to emulate that. So, thank you again and thanks for being patient with my updates.

This chapter is a little short and I personally don't think it's very good. Yes, it's just a filler chapter, I'll admit. It's also unbeta'd, so please excuse any errors. I wrote a scene for a chapter that will probably appear in a few months (at the rate I'm going). It'll probably be in chapter 11 or 12. I think you all will enjoy that chapter. Chapter 9 will be better than this one, I promise. In the meantime, filler:

Chapter 8: Healing Process

Hermione resisted the urge to slap Malfoy's cocky face and instead levitated his body up the stairs and through the single lane of wizarding Godric's Hollow. She commanded Ron to carry him to the car, and to her surprise and pleasure the redhead did not protest. "Harry, can you drive?"

The boy in question looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head. Hermione leaned her head against the hood of the car and said a few choice words, then ordered Harry to get in the front seat. "Ron, lay Malfoy down in the back with you, and I need you to tell me if anything happens to him—_anything_. If he coughs, if he wheezes, if he stops breathing, tell me the moment it happens. Tell me if he gets paler, or if his lips turn blue."

Ron looked at her wide-eyed but nodded, and suffered to have Malfoy's head in his lap as she drove them to their hotel. He carried the blond up to her room, where Hermione had already taken out her cauldron and was hastily throwing things in.

"Harry, trade places with Ron and keep an eye on Malfoy. Ron, I need you to Apparate to Diagon Alley and get me a book on healing. Buy it for me, then find a blood-replenishing potion in there and get the ingredients for me. My money bag is zipped in the lid of my trunk."

He opened her trunk and got out the bag, then hastily Disapparated with a crack. Harry alternately watched Malfoy and Hermione with worry. A ring of purple bruises was appearing on her arm from where Ron had held her. Her clothes were bloody, muddy, and ripped from the inferi, but she didn't seem to notice. "Harry, what's his status?" Hermione demanded.

"Um…he's…pale…" Harry said.

"Paler than before?"

"I…don't know." Hermione set her jaw but didn't look up from the potion she was brewing. "I don't think so. What—what are you making?" he asked hesitantly, afraid he would set her off.

"A healing potion. The _episkey _spell alone won't work to keep those cuts sealed. They're already reopening," she said, glancing pointedly at the bed. Looking again, Harry saw now how the blankets on her bed were turning red.

"You got the Horcrux, right, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," he said, reaching to her bedside table and grabbing it to show her. The cup was small and golden, with a badger engraved upon it. The two handles were finely wrought, Harry noticed. She nodded approvingly as he set it back down.

Ron Apparated into the room with a sharp _crack_, startling Harry and Hermione both. "Hermione…" Ron began, "I got you what you needed, but in the book it says it'll take twelve hours for the potion to brew…"

Hermione stared at him, then her eyes turned to Malfoy, studying him. "Please, Harry," she whispered. Malfoy was beyond her skill; they needed professionals.

Harry turned away, unable to break her heart while looking her in the eye. "No. Not after Azkaban. If we hadn't done that, maybe…"

She held out her hand for Ron and he passed her the bag of items. Checking her watch and then leaving her other potion to sit, Hermione opened up the book he'd bought her and flipped to the page. Examining the potion closely, a small smile widened her mouth as she spied a possibility. "If I only put in—"

Hermione was cut off as her first potion began to smoke. She immediately removed it from the heat and conjured a glass, which she filled with the purple liquid. "Sit him up for me," she instructed. Harry pulled Malfoy into a sitting position and Hermione wriggled behind the prone boy. Being mindful of the glass, Hermione rested Malfoy's head in her lap and supported it with one hand. "Harry, if you could open his mouth for me…?"

Harry did so and Hermione tipped the glass until the potion trickled into Malfoy's mouth. A bit dribbled out the corners, but some went down his throat. Hermione wiped his mouth with her hand and then gently lay him back down. "You two, try to get him to drink this. I need to start working on the other potion." She thrust the purple liquid into Harry's hands.

"Hermione—"

"What, Ron?" she asked, getting out the proper ingredients.

"I don't think—"

"He's going to make it, Ron."

"Hermione, I don't think he'll last twelve hours," Harry said. "Look at your pants."

She did, and saw that the front of them was covered with blood where Malfoy had been propped up against her. "I don't care. I'm not going to just sit back and watch him die. Make yourselves useful!" Hermione turned back to her potion, emptying the smoking purple liquid into a few conjured-up bottles and then cleaning the cauldron with a quick "_scourgify!_"

"_Gemino cauldron_," Hermione muttered. Setting the extra cauldron aside, she began mixing ingredients in the other, but when the recipe called for essence of murtlap she only put in one quarter of the required amount. When she was done, Hermione stirred for ten minutes and then left it to simmer for two and a half hours.

Ron looked over and frowned at the bottle of essence of murtlap. "I thought you were going to need most of that bottle," he said.

"Yes, but I looked at the potion and only put in a quarter of what it asked for," Hermione said, changing the direction of her stirring. "That way it'll only take one quarter of the time to brew. I'm going to make a stronger dose with the rest of it next because that one will be too weak to do much but keep him stable."

"And stable is what you aim for," Ron said.

"At the moment, yes," Hermione agreed. "How much of the healing potion did he drink?"

"About a third of the glass."

"Well, keep trying to give it to him." She saw the two boys exchange a glance but ignored them even when they tried to speak to her. Hermione was not about to let Malfoy die just because the situation looked bad.

Once she had both potions brewing steadily, Hermione moved back to her patient. Harry and Ron had propped his head on a pillow, and she deftly took over the task of caring for Malfoy. Now that her head was cleared from her panicky rush of finding him, Hermione reached for Malfoy's wrist and pushed her fingers to the inside of it. She couldn't feel a pulse, which worried her. Hermione moved her fingers to the side of his neck, finally feeling the pumping of his blood. It was faint, and erratic, but he was still alive. The bed beneath him was soaked with blood and Harry and Ron held him up while she used the healing charm on his back again.

"Please, Malfoy, please stay with us. Don't die. I'm sorry we weren't quick enough to save you from this. Fifty-seven cuts for the fifty-seven minutes the door was open, right?" she asked. Hermione kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation with him, urging the smoking purple potion down his throat whenever she ran out of something to say. Harry and Ron were in their room by then, most likely examining the Horcrux.

It seemed to take forever for the mild blood-replenishing potion to be ready, but at long last it was. Hermione forced Malfoy to imbibe as much of the potion as possible. His body gave a light shiver as he drank, which Hermione deemed a good sign. She waited a few minutes and checked his pulse. It was still faint, but beating steadily now at least.

Hermione stayed with Malfoy all afternoon and night, nursing him back to health. It seemed an eternity before her stronger blood-replenishing potion was prepared, and in that time she had managed to get him to drink two whole glasses of the purple healing potion. Hermione sat beside him with her newest potion and began the painstaking task of pouring it down his throat.

"Come now, Malfoy, this doesn't taste that bad," she coaxed, though it was for her own benefit. In fact, she wasn't even sure if what she was saying was true. She just felt like she needed to keep talking, or she'd go crazy. If she stopped, she would realize how futile the situation was. If Malfoy survived, it would only be because Merlin, for whatever reason, smiled upon them and not through any great feat of her own. If she stopped talking, her thoughts would drift back to the blue orb.

If she stopped talking, it would be like giving up, and Hermione Granger _never_ gave up.

"I'm sure it tastes like chocolate chip cookies," she told him, "and brownies and peaches and ice cream and pumpkin pie. Please, just swallow it. I need you to get better. If you don't—but, no. I can't think like that. You _will _get better, but I need you to help me here, Malfoy." Hermione checked his pulse again. Though he had only drunk a quarter of the blue liquid in the glass, she could feel his pulse growing stronger. "Good, Malfoy, this is good. Now please, just cooperate with me a bit longer. Just drink this one glass, please."

"Didn't you…say that…four glasses ago?" Malfoy slurred with an effort.

Hermione sighed with relief and bowed her head as all of the tension went out of her, leaving her feeling drained but relieved. "Oh, thank Merlin, you're all right!" She stared at him, a euphoric smile taking control of her mouth. Hermione caught herself. "Drink it," she ordered, pressing the mostly full glass to his mouth. Letting Hermione manage the flow, Malfoy drank what entered his mouth and coughed afterward.

"Good," she praised him as if he were a child. "Now let me see your back." By then his eyes were closed again and he breathed deeply. Hermione sighed, both with relief and exasperation. "How come I seem to only ever be around boys who think sleeping is the best thing they can do with their lives?" she grumbled, thinking of Ron and how he perpetually slept in the car.

She slid her hand between Malfoy's back and the mattress, feeling around for the wetness of fresh blood. There was the sticky residue of old blood, but none of it felt new, and she sighed with relief once again. Hermione brushed Malfoy's hair back from his forehead and then got off the bed to refill the glass.

A few minutes later, two potions sat on the bedside table, one vibrant blue and the other purple, smoking faintly. Hermione cleaned her workplace and looked over at the blond boy on the bed. It didn't look as if he needed a sleeping potion, but she decided to brew one anyway just to keep herself busy. His face wasn't quite so pale anymore, Hermione noticed with a small, prideful smile.

Letting the potion simmer, Hermione cleaned the blankets around Malfoy, being careful not to wake him. The bloodstains vanished from the clean peachy fabric, and then Hermione looked for other things to do to busy herself with. She put away all the potion ingredients and checked her watch on how long the Dreamless Sleep Potion would take. It was still fifteen minutes yet, so she went to her trunk and pulled out the information she'd gathered before leaving Diagon Alley.

Hermione leafed through the sheaf of papers, deciding on a likely bunch and set the rest aside. She sat on the bed beside Malfoy and began to read, checking every few minutes that he was still doing okay. When the potion was done, she bottled it up and then shrank and packed her cauldron. The room was cluttered with various potions by now, so she organized them. _I just need to keep busy_, she told herself. A yawn brought tears to her eyes, making her grimace. _No sleep yet, you need to be _sure _Malfoy's okay first._

She checked his pulse one more time, finding it steady but still fainter than she would like, and then sat down with her papers again. Hermione read for a few hours, until the words began blurring beneath her gaze and it was hard to keep her eyes open. Then she stood up and busied herself by writing a letter to her parents.

Hermione looked out the window. Dawn was coloring the soft clouds outside, and she realized faintly that she hadn't slept in twenty-four hours. She checked Malfoy's pulse again, frowning. It still wasn't strong. _Perhaps I should wake him and give him more potions,_ she thought. _I could clean him up too. But he's already so peaceful…_

Standing over Malfoy, biting her lip with indecision, Hermione jumped when he half-opened his eyes. "Granger?" he mumbled.

"Yes?" she asked, guilty for some unknown reason.

"You look like hell," he told her.

Hermione scowled, angry with herself for deciding to let him sleep. She should've woken him when she wanted, the obnoxious ingrate. "Drink this," Hermione snapped, handing him the purple potion off the bedside. He obliged, and she swapped that glass for the other one. "Now this."

Malfoy peered at her over the rim and drank it. "How long have I been out?" he asked.

"Quite a few hours now. We got back here about noon, so I'd say…eighteen hours?"

"And you've slept…at all?" he asked, somehow making the question snide.

Hermione stiffened. "No."

"While that's very kind of you, it would've been kinder if you had at least changed into clothing befitting a human," he said, closing his eyes.

She stood there, staring at him for a long minute. Then his hand reached up slowly and she gave him her arm. "What do you want now?" she growled.

Malfoy tugged on her arm and she nearly fell on top of him at the unexpectedness. "Sleep," he murmured, patting the bed next to him. "I'll be…fine," Malfoy intoned, yawning sleepily and turning over onto his side. "'Sides," he said, his voice getting so quiet she needed to lean over him to hear, "you're not gonna…be any help 'f you pass out…from exhaustion."

Hermione straightened and closed the curtains to keep the sun out. She was angry with Malfoy and his snide words, but when the room was dark again she noticed how truly tired she was. She clambered up onto the expanse of bed that Malfoy was not occupying and closed her eyes, _just for a few minutes_, she told herself.

When Harry and Ron entered the room a few hours later, it was to find Hermione and Malfoy both deeply asleep.

* * *

Hermione woke up again at about ten in the morning and yelped when she saw who was lying beside her. "Beside her" wasn't entirely accurate—she and Malfoy were on completely opposite sides of the bed, with enough room for a large cat to lie luxuriously between them. Even so, Hermione had no recollections of getting into bed with Malfoy. She threw the blanket off of her and stood up before remembering everything. 

"Oh, you're up," said a voice. Hermione startled again and turned to see Ron sitting in a chair, looking over the papers she had abandoned last night. "I must've dozed off," he continued. "You look like hell," Ron blurted out.

Hermione smiled wryly. "That's exactly what Malfoy said. I suppose I should change. You'll watch over him?"

"Sure. What should I do if he wakes up?"

"Um…" Hermione ventured over to the bed once more and checked Malfoy's pulse. "Half a bottle of the blue potion, and then clean his back. It looks like it's bleeding again, but I can't tell how much. If it looks bad, another bottle of the purple potion, but if it's not as bad, give him half. I'm going to shower," she said, catching a whiff of herself.

She pulled some fresh clothes from her trunk and went into the bathroom. Peering out quickly, Hermione said, "Thank you, Ron, for…stopping me, in the…"

His eyes were drawn to the bruises he'd left on her arm. "There's no need to thank me, Hermione. You would've done the same," he said quietly.

She smiled. "Still. Thanks. I don't…I don't think I would've come back if you had let me go."

Ron saw the melancholy in her eyes and didn't know what to say, but that was all right. Hermione turned away from him and went into the shower, scrubbing her adventures away and watching them swirl down the drain. She toweled off, trying not to think of the orb any more than she had to. Thinking of it still left her feeling sad that she had lost it. Of course, it had been an illusion, and she knew that, but at the same time…Hermione had believed it, and to have that trust torn away as suddenly as the shutting of a door was heartbreaking.

When Hermione went out into the room again, Malfoy was still asleep. The blood on the blankets beneath him was spreading in a macabre aura around the pale boy. Hermione pulled her hair back into a quick ponytail and leaned over to wake Malfoy up. Groggily, he opened his eyes. "Granger."

She could already see the pain twisting his face and quickly offered him the purple potion. "Here. Your back has opened up again. Sit up." Malfoy tried, but in the end she had to help prop him up. He drank the potion and she watched as the cuts closed up. "Ron, a wet towel, please."

As Ron ran to obey her, Hermione used a cleaning spell to rid the blankets of the blood. Then she took the dripping towel from Ron and wiped Malfoy's back clean. "Well, the cuts are healing slowly but surely. The ones I was looking at were about half-closed and then they closed up all the way. I'm going to need to brew more of that, though. There's only one more bottle."

"Why do you care so much, Granger?" he groaned, leaning back on the pillows and closing his eyes once again. "Just let me go to sleep and I swear on the name of Malfoy I'll never bother you again."

Hermione slapped him as hard as she could. "Shut up and drink this," she said, giving him the blue blood-replenishing potion. He turned his head away. "Bloody—" she began, "Malfoy, if you don't drink this I swear on the name of Hermione Granger that I will shove it down your throat."

"Since when has your name meant anything to me?" he retorted halfheartedly, but drank it anyway.

"You'd think so much rest would've made you a bit nicer to the person who is caring for you," Hermione snapped, "but I suppose it's in your nature to be a jackass."

"And I suppose it's in your nature to be an ugly, nagging bitch," he told her.

"I was tempted to give you a Dreamless Sleep Potion, but I don't think I will now. If you want to die, I'm not going to help you. In fact, after all these years of being cruel to me, I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you alive," Hermione told him.

Malfoy stared at her, his eyes drifting in and out of focus, and he closed his eyes with a soft smile on his face. She realized with a start that she'd said exactly what he had wanted to hear. "You already knew that, Malfoy, you didn't need to be so mean to make me say it," she muttered as she got out the supplies she needed to make another cauldron of the healing potion. Of course, by then he was already asleep, and she'd spoken too softly for Ron to hear.

"Ron, can you get Harry and the Horcrux?" She was tired of waiting on Malfoy hand and foot and needed something else to busy herself with.

"Of course," he said. He came back a few minutes later with Harry, who was yawning.

Hermione took the Horcrux from him and examined it. Even touching it gingerly gave her fingers an unpleasant tingling, as a leg does when it has fallen asleep. _But how to destroy it?_ She thought, and as if it could read her mind, the tingling in her fingertips turned into a sharp shock of pain. Hermione cried out and dropped the golden cup as Ron hurried over and wrapped her smarting fingers in his own.

"Sorry, I should've mentioned—it hurts when you think about destroying it. Or even just anything negative," Harry said, rubbing sleep from his eyes and then looking at her alertly. He bent to pick the Horcrux up and put it on the bedside table.

"Have you guys tried any spells on it?" Hermione asked as she examined it with her eyes. Ron released her hands rather reluctantly and she bent to be at an even level with the shining gold cup. It didn't _look _dangerous, she thought.

"No, we were waiting for you," Harry said.

"All right then," Hermione said, picking up her wand from the table. "Let's see what we have here," she said, beginning a series of spells to determine the cup's properties.

* * *

By the time Hermione went to bed again she was exhausted and hardly minded that Malfoy was on the bed with her. She had given him more potions and had begun brewing the more healing potion for him, leaving it to simmer on a self-extinguishing flame as she went to sleep. 

Hermione slept uneasily, waking up several times to check on Malfoy. Every time she woke she was panicky that he would be dead. Over the course of the day, despite having taken meticulous care of him, Malfoy's condition hadn't improved. Hermione found herself waking and reaching immediately to find the boy's pulse. It got so bad that by the time dawn stretched coldly over the horizon Hermione was sleeping with her hand on Malfoy's shoulder, ready to push her fingers to his neck as soon as she woke.

Finally deciding she would be able to get no more sleep, Hermione got out of bed and roused Malfoy. "Drink these," she told him, handing him a pair of potions.

"Are you trying to poison me?" he struggled to ask. "You've…given so much…"

"I'm being careful," Hermione promised. She knew that a person's body could only handle so many potions. "That's why I didn't wake you up last night to give you more, though you began bleeding again. I'd imagine it's stopped now. I'm going to start using healing spells now instead of the healing potion."

Malfoy nodded and was asleep again. Hermione sighed and went to shower. Harry and Ron were in the room by the time she came out, only wrapped in a towel. She stopped and stood stock-still in surprise. Ron's eyes trailed up her body and they both blushed before Harry turned the two boys around. Hermione hurried to her trunk and pulled out her clothes, escaping to the bathroom and coming out dressed. "S-Sorry," she stammered.

Harry shrugged, but Ron just looked at her approvingly, making her blush again. She became business-like to cover it up. "Harry, I'm glad you're here. I wanted to ask you about who you saw come out of Voldemort's wand at the graveyard."

The boy stiffened slightly. "There was Cedric. And the man from Riddle's house and my parents, and a woman from the Ministry."

"But what was her name, and where did he kill her?" Hermione insisted.

"Bertha…Bertha something or other."

"Jorkins," said Malfoy's voice, making the three of them jump. "The Dark Lord was bragging about her."

"Where was she when he took her?" Hermione asked, leaning over Malfoy on the bed.

"Albania."

* * *

_All the holidays suck by myself  
_

'_Cause I'm fucked,_

_And I'm dyin', dyin', dyin'_

_So how does it feel? How does it feel?_

--Sugarcult, "How Does It Feel"


	9. Albania

A/N: This chapter was a lot of fun to write, mostly because there wasn't that much writing to do! I wrote the storm scene forever ago, though I wasn't sure where exactly I was going to use it. It wasn't too hard to copy and paste that in, and that was almost a quarter of the chapter. I did some research on Albania, too, so while my facts may not be _entirely _accurate, they're somewhat factual.

Since we haven't really had much insight on Draco recently, I used his point of view a bit in this chapter. The end was really written to show the many sides of Draco Malfoy. And there's a little bit of Ron/Hermione in this chapter (setting up for chapter 10, really), but I promise you that the upcoming chapters will push him almost completely out of the picture.

Chapter 9: Albania

"What was he doing in Albania when he captured Bertha?" Hermione asked.

"Don't…know," Malfoy murmured, already drifting back to sleep. "Was there…for a long time…though…"

Hermione turned to Harry and Ron triumphantly. "I think we should go there next."

The boys exchanged a glance, then shrugged. "That sounds good," Harry said.

"Where exactly is Albania, and how do we get there?" Ron asked.

--

The four teenagers remained in the hotel for another five days before Malfoy was well enough to travel. By the second day of their extended stay his back was healed but his lips were pale with blood loss. Hermione kept giving him the blue blood-replenishing potions, and he continued to sleep constantly.

On the fifth day, Malfoy woke Hermione up somewhat before six , demanding a glass of water and lots of food. "For all your considerable skill as a witch, you don't seem to know how to treat a patient."

She frowned. "Did you just compliment me?"

"I also insulted you, if you failed to notice, Granger," he sneered at her. "Now, I've not eaten or drank much of anything in days and you need to fix that."

Hermione sighed and got out of bed, wrapping herself in warmer clothes before she drove to the nearest convenience store and bought enough food for even Malfoy to be satisfied. When she returned to the hotel it was to find Malfoy lying on the floor. "What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"I had to go to the bathroom, Granger, is that such a crime?" he snarled.

"Oh, Malfoy. We both know you're not strong enough to do that yet."

"I can do it," he snapped at her, dragging himself a few feet across the floor.

Hermione put the groceries on the bed and then heaved Malfoy off the carpet. Despite his heavy protests he was too weak to push her off as she took him into the bathroom. Malfoy wobbled when she let go of him, but managed to stay on his feet as she left, shutting the door behind her without locking it. He would get over his pride once he'd relieved himself (she hoped).

There was a flushing noise, and then Hermione heard the tap running. The door swung open and he promptly fell on her. Hermione grunted and wrapped her arms around him as her knees sank to the ground under Malfoy's sudden weight. "Oof," she groaned. "Malfoy, I need you…to help me here."

He managed to pull himself up onto his knees and Hermione gripped the doorframe to pull the pair of them to their feet. She swung Malfoy's arm over her shoulders and walked him to the bed, where he flopped down on it in exhaustion. Hermione reorganized the displaced groceries and then spread everything out on the bed. "I didn't know what you wanted so I got a lot of stuff. Eat whatever you want, I'm going back to sleep."

Malfoy began to pick through the food and Hermione quickly fell asleep once more.

By the end of that day, Hermione hadn't managed to catch up on her sleep, but Malfoy was well enough to walk around the room unassisted. That night Hermione lay in their bed and called the airport to ask about flights. "We're leaving tomorrow afternoon," she announced to the boys. "The tickets are going to cost us 450 pounds each." Ron grimaced and Hermione was careful not to give him a sympathetic glance. He hated it when attention was brought to his financial situation.

"How did you say we would get there?" Malfoy asked.

"Airplane."

"What's that?"

"It—" Hermione hesitated, trying to think of a magical equivalent. "It's sort of like a flying car. You'll see."

Hermione was up late that night making their flight reservations. Malfoy kept distracting her, demanding a glass of water, a book, telling her to be quieter so he could watch the telly as she packed. After having looked after him almost obsessively and lost much sleep while doing so over the past week, she was too exhausted to even be angry at him and simply complied with his excessive demands.

It was nearly midnight by the time Hermione managed to crawl into bed. Malfoy was still watching the television and barely glanced at her when she slid into her side of the bed.

--

Draco looked over at Granger, who was sleeping on the other side of the bed. She had been soundly asleep for nearly a half hour by now. Draco turned off the telly and settled in under the blankets. He felt a little bad for how he'd treated her that day.

He'd never been very good with feelings, particularly ones like appreciation. Draco was extremely grateful to Hermione for what she'd done for him over the past week. The problem was that he didn't know how to express it. He sighed at himself. Since birth, he'd been told that he was better, that to apologize and to thank was weak.

Granger probably wouldn't ever get a verbal thank you for what she'd done, but he'd let her know somehow. He was already regretting his earlier gruffness, but how else would she expect him to act? "You already know I'm bad with this, Granger," he told her sleeping form before he finally closed his eyes and went to sleep.

--

The next morning Draco woke up early. He wasn't in need of much extra sleep, not after days of doing nothing but. His stomach growled a warning and he sighed, looking around the room. Though Granger had bought him a lot of food yesterday, it was gone by now. The Golden Trio had eaten the last of it that night when they'd had their little meeting.

They seemed to have meetings a lot, and said meetings didn't usually involve Draco. It actually didn't bother him much that they still didn't trust him completely. Were they discussing the Horcrux or the upcoming trip to Albania or other things completely?

Draco itched to examine the Horcrux. His parents had bred in him a sort of hypersensitivity to magic. He could _feel _the weave of spells, so to speak, and every spell was unique. By knowing traits of a certain type of spell, he could make a fairly accurate guess at what the spell did and how to break it. Draco wanted to feel the weave of a Horcrux spell. He imagined what it would feel like: tight like a binding spell, but with the heaviness of death and the lingering stickiness of a blood price.

He shivered at the elaborateness of his own musings and tried not to think of the Horcrux any further. Draco's stomach grumbled again in protest and he looked over at Granger. She had dark circles under her eyes; he had a brief flash of guilt at having run her ragged. 

Draco gasped and moaned in pain as his Dark Mark suddenly burned white-hot. Granger, so peaceful but a moment before sat up in bed and looked at him in alarm. "Are you all right? Are you bleeding? Did your cuts reopen?" she blurted out in a rush.

"N-No," he groaned. "The-the Mark…"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh," she uttered. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Something…warm…it'll pass in a bit…" Granger jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, emerging a minute later with a wet towel. He wrapped it around his left forearm, and feeling the warm water drip down his arm was strangely soothing. Draco leaned back against the headboard of the bed and tried to calm himself.

The feeling of being branded subsided after a few minutes, leaving behind a bone-deep ache in Draco's arm. He felt something swipe across his forehead and opened his eyes to see Granger kneeling on the bed next to him with a smaller washcloth, wiping away his sweat.

"You don't have to do that, Granger," he said gruffly.

She continued wordlessly and finally sat back on her heels. "Do you need anything else?"

"Food?" he asked her.

Granger rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll go get you some food. Do you want anything in particular? Should I send in Harry or Ron to…keep you company?"

Draco sneered. "I don't want Potter or Weasley, I want—" _you_ was what he thought, but that gave him pause. _You_? He wondered. _Merlin, where did that come from? I almost said that I wanted Granger. But I don't want her. This whole blood loss thing must be getting to me._

A cool hand to his forehead made him jump. "What are you doing?" he snapped.

"Checking your temperature. I asked you what you wanted and you didn't say anything, you just had this glazed look in your eyes. I was worried you might have a fever, but it doesn't feel like it."

"I'm fine. I want a blueberry muffin," he decided.

"Okay," she said. "I'll get you some blueberry muffins." Granger pulled on her coat over her pajamas and brushed her bushy hair back from her face before she left.

--

"No, _you_'ve got to get out of here. Keep Harry safe, Ron." Hermione's face was pleading.

"But Herm—"

Hermione leaned forward and kissed Ron on the mouth. "Please, Ron, go. Keep him safe."

"Hermione…"

"Malfoy, get them out of here," she said angrily.

A hand on his shoulder was shaking Ron, but he wanted to stay in the dream, kissing Hermione for another hour, or even simply another minute. The dream refused to stick, however, and faded into the pale light of his and Harry's hotel room. Hermione was leaning over him but she backed up when he woke. "What is it, Hermione?" he mumbled, still imagining her lips on his.

"Malfoy's Dark Mark is burning. I'm going out to get food again, but I just wanted you to make sure he's all right. You don't have to go in there right now, but if you'll check in on him in a few minutes…?"

"Sure."

"Great. I'll be back in about twenty minutes, all right?"

Once Hermione left, Ron rolled over in his bed and tried to recapture his dream and the feeling of Hermione's mouth on his. When he found he was unable to do that, he was reassured by the small fact that the kiss had been another true dream and he would, eventually, feel that kiss in reality.

--

When he caught sight of the plane out the window, Malfoy stopped and stared. "Like a _car_? Granger, that's more like four buses!" It was a fairly small plane in comparison to some Hermione had been on, since flights to Tirana ( Albania's capital) weren't often in demand.

"Well, I was just trying to give you the right idea," she explained. "The gate's up ahead, you can look at the planes from there." Malfoy trailed along behind the three of them, still looking out at the planes. Ron was staring at them too, but with slightly less enthusiasm.

Forty-five minutes later they were buckling themselves into the seats on the plane. Hermione pulled out a book and began to read immediately. Harry and Ron both were looking out the window, while across the aisle Malfoy was making himself comfortable in his row, which was empty except for him.

The plane ride only lasted a few hours, during which Malfoy fell asleep, Ron complained a lot about having nothing to do (before eventually sleeping with his head on Hermione's shoulder), Harry brooded out the window, his fingers wrapped about the locket around his neck, and Hermione accomplished a lot of reading.

As they were getting off the plane, Malfoy said, "That was a lot smoother than the Knight Bus."

Hermione gave him a wry smile but didn't say anything. She'd forgotten about the Knight Bus—they probably could've reached Albania in thirty minutes to an hour instead of the four it had taken them. Then again, if the carts at Gringotts made her sick, considering the horror stories she'd heard, taking the Knight Bus would not end pleasantly. It would probably be best if she pretended it had been intentional.

They exited the airport and made their way to the parking garage, where Hermione enlarged her car back to its original size. Before they got into the car, the four double-checked that no one had seen the display of magic. Then they piled in and Hermione pulled out a map.

"You said he had been in Berat?" She asked Malfoy, who was seated next to her as always.

"Yeah. There's…the citadel and stuff…" he confirmed.

Hermione nodded. Voldemort would choose something like the archaic Berat Citadel. He seemed attracted to things that had a history, and Berat Citadel had existed for quite a long time.

It took about two hours for them to get to Berat, and then another twenty minutes before they found a hotel. Hermione roused the boys. They yawned as they entered the hotel, and it was up to Hermione to get three rooms for them. The boys went immediately to their rooms, leaving Hermione alone in the hall. With a sigh, she decided to be kind and give them all their rest, despite wanting to look at the Horcrux some more. She went to her room and stretched out on the bed to read.

It was near midnight when Hermione finally put down the book and switched off the light. If she had done so even 15 minutes earlier, she probably would have gotten a full night's sleep. Lightning streamed outside her window, flashing through the room. It was followed a few seconds later by a snarl of thunder.

Fear seeped into Hermione, flooding her with another slash of lightning and shout of thunder. She had always been frightened of lightning storms. It had been an irrational fear of hers since she was little. She got panicky and sometimes hysterical, especially if she was alone. At the next thrash of lightning, Hermione squeaked and clutched the blankets to herself. _It'll be fine, _she told herself. _There's no need to be so—!_ Thunder growled at her, loud and angry. Hermione didn't even manage to finish the thought before she was out of bed and across the hall.

Timidly, Hermione knocked on Harry and Ron's door. She jumped at the sound of thunder and knocked harder. There was no answer. "Harry?" she asked through the door, knocking again. "Ron?"

The next burst of thunder nearly put Hermione in tears. Where were her boys? They wouldn't have gone out without saying something, would they? No, surely Harry and Ron wouldn't have left without telling her. But if they weren't out there, then why wouldn't they answer the door? What if they were out and one of them was struck by lightning!

With one last desperate try, Hermione pounded on the door. When they still didn't answer she turned back to her room in terror. If she had Harry and Ron with her, the storm would at least become bearable, but if she had to sit alone in her room with that storm outside…

Malfoy's door was right next to hers. She shuffled sideways toward it, considering. The ensuing thunderclap made up her mind and she knocked at his door. She stood, shaking, in the hallway for what seemed an eternity, and had even raised her hand to knock again when the door swung open. Malfoy blinked sleepily. "Yes?" he drawled.

"Can—can I come in?" Hermione stammered. For an answer, he opened the door wider and she slipped in beside him. "Thank you," she murmured. There was a moment when she thought her fear would pass, but he closed the door with a click behind her and she started; barely a second after, lightning snapped its impatience into the sky and thunder followed at its heels. Hermione cried out and for a sickening instant imagined Harry and Ron lying in the street, sizzling, burning, steaming in the rain before falling dead to the uncaring street.

Hermione lost it.

Before she had any idea what was happening, Hermione was sobbing. "Where are they, why didn't they answer my knocks?" she wailed miserably. "If they're out there, I'll skin them alive for making me worry so, I swear it," she said as her panicky fear turned into indignant rage. "If they're not out there, then I'll kill them as soon as I get my hands on them, I can't believe they'd do this to me. They probably think it's funny! Most likely, they're sitting in their room over steaming cups of tea, laughing at silly Hermione for being scared. It's not fair, why couldn't they have just opened the door for me?"

For the first time during her rant, she met Malfoy's eyes. The grey orbs were wide and alarmed, looking at her as if she'd gone mad. Perhaps she had. What if she _had _gone crazy? Her anxious and frustrated sobs ceased as she considered. How could she ever think that about Harry and Ron? They wouldn't be sitting there laughing at her. If anything, they would have jumped to her rescue the first moment she called out. Which only left the possibility that they were gone and out on the streets.

Hermione took a deep breath, then another. By the third, she could not keep calm anymore and the tears fell again wildly. "What if they're hurt," she whispered. "They might be dead, and I just said all kinds of mean things about them," she cried, looking at Malfoy beseechingly. He could not give her the forgiveness she asked for and shifted uncomfortably. They were still crammed together in the small hallway behind the door.

There was another flash of lightning and thunder howled as if commiserating with Hermione. She yelped and leaped sideways, bumping into Malfoy. He laughed, and before she could so much as turn to look at him, he had enfolded her in his arms. "I understand now," he said softly. "It's going to be okay. Storms come and go. Potter and Weasley are probably sleeping right through this. In fact, I'll bet they're snoring so loud they didn't even hear you knocking," his voice was reassuring, and despite her fear Hermione could almost smile at his joke.

Like a discarded garment his arms fell off of her. Malfoy put a gentle hand to her back and propelled her into his room. "Sit," he ordered. "I'll make us tea."

Confused by his sudden tenderness, Hermione plopped onto the bed. While the blond boy made tea, he conversed with her in a comforting tone. "The thing is, my mother isn't scared of much. Lightning storms, however, frighten the bloody hell out of her. I used to be terrified of them too, when I was a child. Mum was always there to comfort me, though. More often than not, she took me into the ballroom, which has no windows, and taught me how to dance. Sometimes she would read to me. Sometimes we would draw.

"I grew out of my fear when I was about ten. However, every time there was a lightning storm my mum would fetch me from my room and we would meet in the ballroom to do something. It's all just a clever distraction," he told her in a soft murmur. Sometime during his story he had handed her the tea, but she hadn't noticed. At the moment, she was too entranced by this fascinating boy who never stopped amazing her. At her scrutiny, Malfoy smirked and took a slow sip of his tea. "You didn't even notice those two lightning bolts during my story, did you?" he asked her. It was a question, or a comment, but he somehow made it an accusation.

Hermione turned back to her mug, frowning, and took a taste. It was a bit too sweet, and too hot, but she wasn't about to complain. Malfoy completely unnerved her—one moment he was silent and observant, the next disdainful and mean, and just as suddenly he would be kind and friendly. She put down her tea on a bedside table and stood, approaching the window with careful steps. The town below shimmered behind the wet glass, every light reflecting in puddles that danced in the rain. It was gorgeous beyond the meaning of the word. Lightning cut through the sky, making Hermione jerk back in surprise with a yell. Thunder rolled after it quickly. She shook, but held her ground.

Another bolt of lightning forked through the night. Her trembling increased and she stepped back as thunder followed it. Through a sudden dryness in her mouth, she managed to say, "I'm scared." As if the words could keep out the fear.

Malfoy frowned and then moved to stand beside her. "Turn," he ordered.

Hermione threw him a patronizing look.

The boy beside her sighed and then reached over to grab her shoulders. He turned her to face him and then slid his hands down her arms to grasp her hands. "Now," he told her. "Salsa isn't technically a ballroom dance, but it's certainly more entertaining than most of those. And it's fairly simple. So." He took her right hand and held it in his, placing her left one on his shoulder and his right on the side of her ribcage.

"When I step here, you…"

--

Draco woke up to several sharp knocks on his door. He rolled out of bed and rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Can't anyone bloody well knock on my door when I'm _not _asleep?"

Potter and Weasley stood outside his door. "What do you want?" Draco asked.

"Hermione's gone," Weasley blurted.

"No, she's not. You bloody idiots slept through the whole episode but there was a lightning storm last night and she freaked out. When she knocked and you two didn't wake up, she came to me." Draco smirked at them but sighed when he saw their expressions. The two boys looked so distraught he couldn't be mean to them. "She fell asleep in here." He opened the door wider to admit them and Weasley walked in, followed more cautiously by Potter.

"What did you do to her?" the redhead hissed.

"What?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Hermione would never just fall asleep in here when she has a room right next door," Weasley informed him. "What did you do?"

Draco smirked. "I did nothing. We were watching the telly and she fell asleep."

"I don't believe you."

The interrogation was beginning to annoy Draco. "Well if you want to wake her to ask I'm not going to stop you. She does look awfully tired, though." Weasley looked torn between waking her and acknowledging that she did look exhausted.

In the end, the redhead snapped, "I want to see her as soon as she's awake," and stormed out of the room.

Potter looked Draco in the eye. "If you've done anything to her…" he threatened.

Draco smirked but refused to rise to the bait as Potter followed Weasley out the door.

Hermione woke about five minutes after the Wonder Duo had left. "Want some more tea?" he offered her.

She accepted and he quickly brewed the beverage. "What time is it?" Granger asked. Draco shrugged, and she sighed. "Harry and Ron probably aren't even up."

"Actually, they were in here not to long ago, demanding to know what the hell I did to you. Weasley wanted to see you as soon as you woke up."

"I suppose I should go to them, then," Granger said, setting her cup on the table and getting off the bed.

Granger was almost all the way out the door before he asked, "Is it really as strange as all that, that you could fall asleep on my bed of your own accord?"

She began to turn to answer, then hesitated and stood in his doorway for a long minute. "No, Malfoy, I'm not sure it's that strange. I'll be back once I've spoken to them."

When she left, she didn't close the door all the way and he sat down on his bed with a sigh. "How do you make me never know what to say, Granger?" he asked the air around him. As expected, there was no answer and he sat back against his pillows to await her return.

--

_Can you read my mind so easily  
As the madness sets in  
You must know that I'll follow you_

--Snow Patrol, "Whatever's Left"


	10. The Catacombs

A/N: I would just like to say that I am really sorry that there is always a lot of wait-time between chapters. I will try to work on that (I think there was about 2 months between my last two chapters), but I can't promise anything until summer. During summer, you should get a new chapter at least once a week, except for in August because I'm going to Africa. Much love to all my faithful readers. Sorry this chapter is short. The next one will be too, but I'll try to get the it up within a week.

Chapter 10: The Catacombs

Hermione didn't return to Malfoy's room immediately. She stared at the open door for a minute and then went into her room and took a quick, hot shower. Her mind and stomach were all in knots at the thought of going back to Malfoy's room. She hadn't the faintest idea what to think of him or his behaviour or…well, any of it really. He had been so nice to her last night, and even that morning. The Malfoy that Harry and Ron had sworn as their enemy, the one that Hermione had disliked almost as much, seemed completely gone now.

And Hermione couldn't excuse the warm, squirmy feeling she got when she thought of him.

"Oh, stop that, Hermione, you're being ridiculous," she told herself as she got dressed and brushed her hair out. "You like Ron, remember? The sweet redhead across the hall." Hermione looked down at he clothes and sighed. "And now you're practically getting dressed up for him. Where is your head, Hermione?" she scolded herself as she changed her shirt into a more casual one. She stepped out into the hall, took a deep breath, and returned to Malfoy's room.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were really coming back," Malfoy remarked upon her entry.

Hermione flushed, but said nothing. He waved his wand and her tea from earlier wafted over to her. She plucked the floating cup out of the air and walked over to the window again. "Clear skies today," she commented.

Malfoy was quiet. An awkward tenseness stretched over the room between them, a chasm that neither could reach across. For half a second, Hermione wished fervently that the room was dark, so that she and Malfoy could talk freely. "I—I just realized I have something to do," she stammered, when the silence was too forced. "Thanks for the—the tea."

Hermione set the cup on the windowsill and hurried out of the room. She shoved her key into the lock of her door and yanked it open, then closed it quickly once she was inside. Shaking her head, she sighed. _Good one, Hermione_, she sarcastically complimented herself.

* * *

The streets were meticulously cobbled and crowded with tourists. Hermione, Harry, Ron and Malfoy wove their way through the throng, heading for the cathedral. Though the masonry and stones were chipping, the building was still magnificent. "Do you see that statue, there, the one with the wings? It's supposed to symbolize…" Hermione began to chatter as she stared at the structure, noting things about its architecture that she had read about previously.

Harry and Ron went up the steps and pulled open the doors, and she continued to point out the designs and their meanings to the boys (who ignored her, for the most part, although Malfoy was looking around with just as much interest as she). They stopped in the middle of the aisle, and Harry turned. "Where are we going?"

Malfoy's eyes examined the room carefully, then pointed near the altar, where a small door stood to the side. A stained glass window bathed the stone in fractured rainbows and Hermione shivered—somehow the colors only made the door look more ominous. The four teenagers meandered around the room, and made their way into a corner, where Harry whipped out his invisibility cloak and they carefully slipped under it. There was hardly room to walk beneath it, but they returned to the door and stood in front of it. "_Alohomora_," Hermione whispered, tapping the knob with her wand.

There were two soft clicks, and Hermione looked around nervously. Ron pulled open the door and they inched inside. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak and tucked it away into a pocket, then they all cast _lumos _so they could see their way. The light revealed a short passage before them, vanishing into a long spiral stairway downwards. "Where are we, Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Ron asked him in an angry whisper.

Harry wobbled and Hermione reached out to steady him. "Harry, are you all right?" she asked worriedly. Ron and Malfoy were silent; Harry leaned up against the stone wall and breathed heavily.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine," he panted. "He…he was here, Hermione."

"When?" Hermione asked him.

"I don't know," Harry said, "But I can feel him." Hermione reached up and lightly brushed the hair off of his forehead. His scar shone darkly against his pale face.

"Will you be all right?"

Harry nodded and heaved himself off the wall. Malfoy was standing at the head of the stairs, looking downwards. The trio approached him cautiously and he began to lead the way down silently. The farther down they went, the grimmer Malfoy's expression became when he suddenly stopped. "Granger, I don't like this."

"What is it?"

"I don't know—that's what scares me." This last he said more quietly, so only she could hear.

They at last came to the bottom of the steps, and everyone was uneasy. Ron nervously shuffled his feet, while Malfoy and Harry stood stock still with their eyes closed tight as they fought their own inner battles. Hermione gazed around warily, then announced, "I know where we are. We're in the catacombs."

The four cautiously made their way between the tombs, and suddenly Harry stopped, grasping his head tightly in his hands. Ron helped to support him and Hermione approached nervously. Harry hadn't reacted like this when they had retrieved the cup, and it concerned Hermione. She glanced over her shoulder at Malfoy. He was standing with his legs set wide, defensively, but his wand was held loosely at his side and his head was bowed. "Malfoy?"

He didn't move. Hermione was torn between staying by Harry's side and going to Malfoy, whose stance seemed so _wrong_ to her that she was deeply unsettled. Ron met her eyes and she indicated that he should care for Harry and then went to stand by Malfoy. His posture sent her heart racing. "What's wrong?"

"Inferi," Malfoy said, and looked at her. His voice was hollow, his face haunted and confused. "I don't understand."

Hermione stared at him, puzzled, and then slowly turned to look the way he had been facing. "What? But…" Now that Malfoy had pointed them out to her, Hermione could see all the inferi just a little farther down the corridor. The ground was littered with their twice-dead bodies, their limbs shredded and flesh mangled. Killing inferi was notoriously difficult to do, especially without the use of fire, but not a single one of the bodies were so much as singed.

"What are we—" Ron cut off mid-sentence and gave a low whistle. "That's…"

"Impressive?" Harry offered when Ron didn't finish. His breathing was still labored and sweat glistened on his face but he was standing on his own.

"Disturbing," Ron amended. "Whoever did this…"

"Is more than a match for us," Malfoy said.

"Should we turn back?" Hermione asked nervously.

"No," Harry said decisively. "We've come this far. And at least we don't have to deal with all of these things."

The other three exchanged wary looks but did as Harry had directed and continued on their way. The deeper into the catacombs that the group traveled, the more dead inferi they saw. At last they came to a heavy wooden door. Malfoy stood in front of it and Hermione noticed he was shaking. She put a hand to his arm in concern but he brushed it off, pressing his fingers into the wood to see what spell held it closed.

"It demands a life," he said reluctantly. "But…the price has already been paid." Malfoy reached out and turned the knob. The door swung open. Inside were a few fully-grown mandrakes, but they were dead, their bodies slashed to pieces and their blood splattered all over the walls. Hermione gagged, and it was the only sound in the room. Two manticores lay slain and dismembered at the foot of a pedestal.

Harry stood at the door with Hermione while Malfoy and Ron grimly picked their way across the floor and to the pedestal. Ron reached out and grabbed the small object upon it, then brought it back to the pair by the door. All four stared at it. "It's real," Malfoy verified.

Puzzled, they all looked at each other. "But why would someone come through and kill all of the obstacles only to leave behind the Horcrux?"

Ron was staring at Malfoy suspiciously, but he and Hermione had locked eyes. They were both thinking the same thing. "We need to get out of here," Malfoy said.

"Now," Hermione agreed. Ron opened his mouth to argue but Hermione and Malfoy had already begun walking down the path of dead inferi. He turned back and helped Harry to stumble forward, back to the exit. They hurried as best they could, following the dim bobbing lights from the tips of Hermione and Malfoy's wands.

Hermione and Malfoy stopped at the stairs to wait for Harry and Ron. "Do you swear you haven't betrayed us?" Hermione asked Malfoy.

The blond sneered at her in disgust. "Still don't trust me, do you?"

She hesitated. "I do trust you. That's why I'm asking you this. Look, no matter what, Harry has to get out of here alive. I want you to go before him and guard him. I'll watch behind." Hermione looked around their dank surroundings nervously. If it was a trap, all of it, they had just as much a chance of being ambushed from inside the cathedral as within the catacombs.

When Harry and Ron made it to them, Harry's eyes were glassy and dazed. Hermione looked at Harry in concern, then around to the two other boys. There wasn't time for conversation, though, and Malfoy started up the steps. Harry and Ron went up together, and Hermione spared one last look for the dark around her before she began to follow them up.

They were about halfway up the spiral staircase when Hermione heard the distinct cracking and popping of Apparating behind her. The four of them froze for half and instant, then Harry gave a muffled scream and they all broke into a run. The Death Eaters shouted behind them and raced after, but the teenagers had a head start. Hermione shot spells over her shoulder as they went, and managed to shield most of the ones that came up from below.

Hermione heard the heavy wooden door shatter as Malfoy got there and he led them all through without pause. Hermione stopped and charmed the wood splinters to create a wall of spikes in place of the door, then did a few other spells to delay the Death Eaters, if only for a moment. The boys were already making their way through the cathedral and Hermione hurried after them frantically. The stained-glass windows cast myriad colors over the four of them as they raced through the narrow aisle between the pews.

A few feet from the door, Hermione stopped and jerked on the sleeve of Harry's shirt. He turned to her and she pressed her keys into his hand. "Go," she said. "I'll keep them busy. Apparate as soon as you're out of the citadel and come back for my car later."

"Hermione—"

"Go!"

"We're not leaving without you," Ron said, turning back and grabbing her shoulders. "Come on, we've got to get out of here."

"No, _you_'ve got to get out of here. Keep Harry safe, Ron."

"But Herm—"

Hermione leaned forward and kissed Ron quickly on the mouth. "Please, Ron, go. Keep him safe."

"Hermione…"

"Malfoy, get them out of here," she said angrily.

Malfoy gripped both boys by their upper arms just as the Death Eaters made it up into the cathedral at last. As they careened into the pews and shattered them with spells, the blond pulled Hermione's best friends out the door. She turned grimly to the Death Eaters, clutching her wand tightly in her hand.

* * *

"You fools," Voldemort hissed. "How could you let them get away? I can't believe the incompetence that I am surrounded with."

"Please, my lord," one Death Eater pleaded, "they were already up the stairs. We thought they were still going to be on their way to the room so we could catch them on the way back."

"Yes, yes, we killed all the creatures like you told us to. Even lost Dolohov to one of the manticores," said another. "If everything had just been timed right, we would've been able to capture them all."

"And the item—the item that you were supposed to be guarding?" Voldemort said archly. He already knew the answer.

No one spoke. Voldemort hissed between his teeth disapprovingly and kicked the nearest Death Eater. The man whimpered and rolled on the floor but did not object to the treatment.

"My lord, we did—we did manage to capture one of them."

"Did you really? I'm actually quite surprised, with how much you bungled up the whole operation. Which one was it?"

"The girl. She's in the dungeons right now, cell number 47. Would you like us to bring her up?"

"No, no, I shall see her later, at my own convenience. In the meantime, you all shall be punished for your mistakes and will immediately begin searching for the remaining three. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," everyone murmured, and then the Death Eaters got neatly into a line, alphabetically, so they could be punished.

* * *

Draco came to with a splitting headache, and looked over to where Potter slept. The boy was sleeping uneasily, and the sheets were tangled around him. Weasley lay silently beside him, awake but glassy-eyed. He was probably in shock or something equally ridiculous.

Draco had been cat-napping all night, and in his periods of wakefulness he was sitting tense and on-guard for any danger or mulling over how to save Hermione. If he thought about it, he was a little jealous that she had kissed Weasley and not him, but Draco was going to wait until they had saved her before he got angry over something as petty as that. Maybe he had misjudged their relationship and she really _did_ fancy the detestable redhead.

For some time now a—a _thing_ (he dared not call it a plan, not just yet) had been blossoming in his mind. Draco had always prided himself on being able to scheme and lie his way out of any situation. Saving Granger would take some preparation if his _thing _was going to be successful, but he was confident that, with careful planning, it would work. He would need to get some help from a few old (and rather shady) friends of his too. Potter and Weasley wouldn't like it.

They didn't have much of a choice. "I have an idea," Draco announced. It was a few minutes before Weasley so much as twitched his gaze up to him, and another long moment before Potter's eyes fluttered open and, still looking up at the ceiling, asked, "Well?"

* * *

_Goodness knows I saw it coming  
Or at least I'll claim I did  
But in truth I'm lost for words_

--Snow Patrol, "Chocolate"


	11. The Plan

A/N: This chapter gets a little **dark** and has **mature content** (although I did try to keep it as light as possible). You are warned.

I won't be able to update for a couple weeks or so, so I'm really sorry this chapter ends on a cliffhanger. If I was a little more organized with my updates I wouldn't have been so mean. Sorry for any mistakes, I didn't have time to beta it or anything, but I think most of it is okay.

Chapter 11: The Plan

The days passed for Hermione in a blur of pain. The spells that had felled her had been healed by a mediwitch who entered her cell on the first day. Hermione had asked, naively, "Was I rescued?"

The witch had kicked her in the face and laughed harshly. "You'll never be rescued, Mudblood."

"Why—why are you healing me?"

The witch yanked on Hermione's hair so that their eyes met in the dim light. "The Dark Lord likes to break his toys himself."

Some time later that day the Death Eaters came in and beat Hermione again. The witch followed them, and they came again and again, a continuous flow of pain, injury, and very soon, despair.

By the fifth day, Hermione was beginning to hallucinate. She had been days with neither food nor water, and the constant beatings were taking a toll on her. It was all she could do to flee her body, imagine that she was somewhere else with the people she loved. Sometimes it was Harry in the darkness with her, and Ron. But for some reason, more often than even him was Draco, the sweet person that Malfoy became when the lights turned off.

She imagined conversations between the Death Eaters outside her door. "Have they drugged her food yet?" There was a snicker. "What food?"

"How long until the Dark Lord sees her?"

"I say, the longer the better. It's nice to be able to beat her—the fun always goes out of it when he decides there's something he wants from them."

Then, later, "I think it's time for a different sort of fun."

Hermione didn't move; it took too much effort, but whether imagined or not, the voice that intoned those words filled her with dread for what was to come.

The mediwitch did not come that night. Her healing jobs had been getting sloppier and sloppier as the beatings became more frequent. Hermione had an ache in her chest that would not go away, and she dimly remembered slamming into a wall and hearing the crunch of her bones.

On the sixth day of her imprisonment, Hermione was given a cup of water. Dimly, she was aware that she should drink it slowly, save it if she could, but by the time she thought that, the water was already gone. She licked the cup, trying to capture every little bit of the precious substance. Her hand spasmed in pain and the ceramic cup clattered to the floor. It hurt too much to pick it back up.

After drinking the water, Hermione was even thirstier. "Harry, would you please get me some water?" she asked. The figure outside the door didn't move. "Please, Harry, I need water." The form moved away and she smiled a little. "Thanks."

* * *

"_Crucio_," Voldemort said almost lazily. Wormtail writhed on the floor, and panted when the curse ended. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. 

"_Crucio_," the Dark Lord repeated. He walked over to Pettigrew and kicked him hard in the ribs. "Sorry isn't going to make it better. Everything should have gone smoothly. All you needed to do was kill the inferi. Not the other obstacles, just the inferi, and make sure that my Death Eaters were there at the right time. But what did you do? Everyone went out drinking—" He kicked Wormtail again, then waited for him to finish coughing before he continued "—your guard fell _asleep _of all things and you let everyone get out of hand and kill the other defenses. I am seriously disappointed in you, Wormtail."

"I'm sorry! Forgive me. It won't happen again," Wormtail whimpered, "I promise you, my Lord, never another mistake."

"You have made this promise before," Voldemort reminded him.

Pettigrew began to cry. Voldemort turned his back on him and left the sniveling wretch alone. He needed to think, to see if he could salvage the situation. "I want to see the girl. Tonight."

There was a rap on the door just as Voldemort was about to leave. He narrowed his eyes at the interruption and opened the door. "Bellatrix! Is something wrong?" Voldemort asked in surprise.

His right hand bowed deeply. "My Lord, there is a matter—I thought not to bother you with it, but it's a unique situation…" she trailed off hesitantly.

"What is it, Bella?"

"It's my nephew. He's back."

"Draco is back?"

"That is correct, my Lord."

"Indeed…" Voldemort murmured. "It was good of you to come to me with this, Bella. Where is the boy?"

"I had him sent to the dungeons for now, but I can have him sent to my room. Would you like to see him?"

"I will see him in the drawing room in an hour," Voldemort said with effort. He had sent Malfoy on a very important mission and hoped that the boy had been successful, but he didn't want to give Bella the impression that he was actually interested in her nephew.

* * *

"Look at you, Granger, you're disgusting. Haven't had a bath in days, have you?" Malfoy asked, stepping close and peering down at her. She could tell it wasn't Draco because of his sneer. Malfoy sneered; Draco usually just looked lost. 

"Shut it, Malfoy," Hermione growled at him. "What happened? You used to be nicer."

"You want to know why all the Death Eaters knew we would be there?"

"Why?" she asked, perking up slightly. For some very strange reason, Malfoy was standing on the ceiling.

And then, as if his mouth was right next to her ear, he breathed, "Because I told them we would be."

Hermione thought over this for a many hours and decided that it had to be true. She wasn't sure what had become of Malfoy (he was no longer in her cell), but that wasn't important. Draco had betrayed them. No, Malfoy had. Draco wouldn't do that to her. Some time later another person came into her cell. "Where did he go?" she asked.

"Who?" It was the mediwitch. She chained one of Hermione's legs to the wall with magic and squatted in front of her.

"He left, where did he go?" Hermione insisted.

"No one was here," the mediwitch said. And then, in a lower tone, "They really _have_ done a number on you." The witch stood and gave Hermione's ribs a sharp kick, muttering, "It's almost a pity" before she left.

Hermione's chest ached more than it ever had. She propped herself against the wall, just to watch for Malfoy when he came again. Before now, she had mostly seen Draco, so Malfoy's reappearance set her on edge.

More time passed, and then the cell door creaked open and someone stumbled in. Hermione tried to quiet her breathing, but it was still loud to her ears, with an odd hitch every few breaths. "Granger?"

She actually held her breath for a second, hoping she hadn't imagined the voice—Draco's voice. Then she remembered her conversation with him earlier. "You…" she breathed. "You bastard. How could you have done this to us?" Her speech trailed off in a sob and chains rattled as she shifted in the dark. Something in her chest tweaked; she gasped with pain and then the only sound was her labored breathing.

"Granger, are you okay?" Malfoy sounded concerned.

"What do you care?" Hermione growled.

"Where are you hurt?"

"I hate you," she said vehemently.

He edged his way in the dark towards her, and she moved again so that her chest didn't hurt so much. His foot hit hers and she whimpered in pain. Draco ran his hands tentatively up her body, trying to figure out her position in the darkness. "Where are you injured, Granger?" His tone was brisk, and hurt. It made her want to lash out more.

"You told them where we would be," she muttered in anguish.

"No, never."

"You did," she insisted.

"If you honestly think I could just hand you over to them this emotionlessly then I don't want to know what else you must think of me. You know I'd never do anything that could hurt you," he whispered, reaching for her again. "Now, tell me where it hurts."

Hermione exhaled slowly. This was Draco. Draco would never hurt her. It was Malfoy who was mean, who was harsh, who had turned her in. Not Draco. She began to laugh, but it hurt so she stopped. "How do you manage it?"

"Manage what?" he said distractedly, then pressed his fingers lightly onto the lower part of her ribs. "Does this hurt?"

Hermione inhaled sharply at the pain and couldn't remember what she'd been trying to say for a long minute before she finally replied, "Manage to be two different people."

He didn't reply; she didn't press the question. Draco continued to examine her body, and each time he discovered another place that hurt on her body his worry grew. After some time he stopped his examination of her body and simply pulled her head into his lap. Hermione, beginning to relax for the first time in days, fell asleep.

* * *

Draco stroked Hermione's hair. Though his speech to her had been a little on the dramatic side earlier, he wondered how much of it was a lie. None of it had felt fake, and now he began to question himself. How much did he really care about Granger? Certainly more than he'd thought before, and that worried him. 

The sound of footsteps in the hall alerted Draco of his aunt's presence—the unique sound of her walk was ingrained into his memory—and so he carefully moved out from beneath Granger's head and went to the bars of the cell to wait for Bellatrix.

His aunt squinted at him in the darkness (her eyes weren't as adjusted as his) and asked, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you being completely honest when you say that you're on our side?"

Draco smirked at her. "I thought you liked liars, Aunt Bella."

Bella's hand was through the bars and smacking Draco's face before he had time to react. "Not when it comes to this allegiance. Don't get smart, boy, or I will be forced to knock you down a few pegs. Did you see the girl? I hear she was in your class."

"Some. She was a bitch and a Mudblood. I doubt anyone but Weasley and Potter will miss her," Draco replied nonchalantly, but his heart was racing. They (or at least Bella) didn't know that he had been with Potter and Weasley. Mentally, he switched the odds on his plan; before the chances of it working had been low, but if no one knew of his involvement with the Golden Trio he had a fair chance to pull it off.

"She won't live long enough to see them miss her," Bella said gleefully.

"How long has she been here?"

"Not even a week and she's already broken."

Draco smirked at his aunt. "Think I can get in some fun before she's turned over to the Dark Lord?"

Bellatrix seemed comforted by his ruthlessness and let him out of the cell, though she never answered his question.

* * *

Hermione woke later alone and cold in the dark. She shivered and drew her knees up closer to her body. "Draco?" she asked the dark, but there was no answer. Hermione sighed and touched the cold metal chain attached to her leg. Had it been a dream? The logical part of her mind told her that there was very little reason to believe Draco had really been with her. And even if he had been, he'd been so un-Draco-like that something _must _have been wrong with him. Besides, she had seen her other friends these past few days and they could not possibly have been there either. 

The dark in the cell lifted slowly as a few Death Eaters came down the hall. The logical bit of Hermione left her and cowered in a corner of her mind. It was hard to be logical when they beat her to a bloody pulp; much easier to just pretend they weren't there, to work arithmetic in the part of her mind that they couldn't reach, couldn't break. She would let them play their games for now—she couldn't stop them—but eventually they would see that she was not so broken as they thought.

Hermione just hoped that she would have the strength when she needed it. Her body was miserably wasted right now, malnourished and battered. Only her mind remained, and sometimes not even that.

The cell door opened and footsteps entered. She sat patiently as they bound her hand and foot, then tied a blindfold over her eyes and took the chain off her foot. She had a feeling that the time was coming for her to be strong, and she refused to fail now. If she was going to die, then it was going to be with some shred of dignity. Hermione whimpered as warm, sweaty hands wrapped around her upper arms, hefted her to her feet and began to pull her along. Her eyes were still blindfolded but she did not struggle, already knowing how futile it was.

The texture of the floor changed under her dragging toes. It wasn't stony and rough anymore, but smooth and slick. She was dropped to the floor unceremoniously and slowly picked herself up onto her knees. Pain shot through her limbs even as she did that, the bindings on her wrists and ankles chafing against the raw, tender flesh.

"Hello, miss," someone squeaked carefully behind her. Hermione tried to ignore the sharp pain in her ribs as she tried to turn to find the source of the voice. "Who's there?" she croaked.

"It is only Moron," said a small voice as the blindfold was carefully untied. "They asked me to get you cleaned up."

Hermione's mind tried to work around this. "They call you 'moron'?" she asked.

The house elf, who Hermione could now see dimly (the room wasn't terribly well-lit), nodded and began untying her wrists. "My name is Moron, miss." Hermione felt a flicker of resentment at this but decided not to argue at the moment. The elf finished untying her and then led Hermione unsteadily towards a bath. The water was only lukewarm, but it felt like the best bath of her life. Moron carefully worked out the snarls in her hair with a comb and helped Hermione to wash herself.

Moron picked up Hermione's ragged clothing and washed it hastily, then got rid of the bloodstains and used a drying charm. Hermione looked at the items, which reminded her of her school uniform, and sighed. They were clean now, but still the hem of her skirt was fraying, the bottom button of the shirt was popped off and there was a tear up the side. Moron helped Hermione out of the bath and dried her off. She left Hermione to dress.

A few minutes after Moron had left, the Death Eaters came back. They looked over her clean body and then tied her up once again and dragged her elsewhere. The Death Eaters once again shoved her onto the floor and walked away. Hermione picked herself up to her knees and tried to listen to see if she was alone.

Someone yanked her legs out from under her and she yelped. The rope tightened around her ankles and then gave way, and her legs were blessedly free. Hermione blinked behind the blindfold, trying to see something, anything, and then she was propped up onto her feet and it was abruptly ripped off, catching on her hair and eliciting another pained cry. "We meet again, Mudblood," Voldemort's soft voice hissed by her ear.

Hermione's eyes were still adjusting to the light, making her blink rapidly before she could make out the dark shapes of Death Eaters surrounding her. Voldemort's presence moved from one side of her to the other and she tried not to shiver. He held her face with one hand and roughly ran his other fingers along her jaw. She whined as he pushed into her bruised flesh.

"Did you say something?" he asked her, yanking her hair back and exposing her throat. She trembled but remained silent. "Answer me when I speak to you, Mudblood!" he growled, pulling her hair even tighter.

At this, Hermione let out a whine in the back of her throat. "No," she replied. She gathered her strength and then jerked her arms back, jamming her elbow into Voldemort's stomach. He hissed and doubled over in pain. As sudden as her movement was, there was a minute gesture from someone in front of her and just before she experienced the most intense hurt she'd ever felt she heard the soft, "_Crucio!_"

When Voldemort regained his feet he lifted her up by her collar and punched her. Hermione's jaw ached more with the blow but it was minor in comparison to the throbbing of the rest of her body. Her ribs, in particular, were sending jolts of pain through her body. "Do you see? The kitten is still trying to use her claws." Voldemort let go of her collar and she dropped to the floor. "The Mudblood is nothing without her wand, though," he said, leaving her to go join his followers. "Mudblood, have you met my loyal Death Eaters yet?" he asked, languishing among them.

Hermione gritted her teeth but said nothing; of course she had met his Death Eaters—they had visited her every day. It was too much effort to fight back now: she would have to wait for another chance—and for her head to stop pounding. "I'd like you to meet someone," Voldemort said, bowing intricately to her (his Death Eaters chuckled at the mocking respect) and pulled a person out of the ranks.

Hands reached out of the folds of the cloak and pulled back the hood. "This is Goyle, as I'm sure you know." Hermione did—he looked much like his son, heavyset and muscular. "Goyle, if you could prepare her?"

"Of course, my lord." Goyle reached forward, far more conscientious of her body than Voldemort had been, and took her hands in his. He pulled them above her head and when she looked up she saw the hook hanging from the ceiling.

"Please," she whimpered, "Don't."

Goyle ignored her and lifted her by her wrists, hooking the rope tying them together on the metal curl above her. Hermione's toes barely touched the ground, relieving some of the weight on her wrists but not much of it. The stretched-out position made her ribs ache fiercely; Malfoy's diagnosis from the night before of them being broken or at least cracked was probably correct.

Without Death Eaters obscuring all of her vision, Hermione looked around the room. The walls before her were lined with comfortable sofas and footrests. To her right was a banquet lining the wall, and on the left side was a large door, almost certainly not the one she came in from.

Hermione craned her neck to look behind her, only to see a blank wall. _Merlin,_ she thought, _I'm the entertainment._ She began to debate on if it would be better to hide away in her head or if she should just get her fighting done and over with before they really broke her. If she waited too long before she put up her real fight, soon she'd have no strength left for it.

Just as she thought that, Crabbe sauntered over to her. He ran a finger down her body, between the valley of her breasts and stopping just at the waist of her skirt. She stood stock still, fear shooting through her body.

"I have a son as old as you," he informed her, leaning over and biting her neck. She stifled a noise at the pain and didn't move. "And that's the only reason I'm not going to touch you." Even so, he ran a hand down the rest of her body wistfully before he stepped back. She sagged with relief as he walked away, leaving her relatively unharmed.

People ate and drank, and Hermione watched, hunger growing in her stomach. It had been a long time since she'd eaten anything. She forced herself not to look at the table laden with food, but it was hard to resist. If she looked anywhere else, she only saw Death Eaters leering at her.

Peter Pettigrew was the next person to approach her. He came from behind, drawing one hand up the back of her thigh while another grabbed her breast. Hermione shivered with revulsion as he touched the spot between her legs and then moved to stand in front of her. "What would the precious Potter say now to see his Mudblood? Standing here for all of us like a whore," he crooned at her before unbuttoning her shirt.

With her hands above her head, Hermione couldn't stop Pettigrew's physical action, but she had other weapons. "He would probably remind you that he saved your life and you owe him."

Peter's face twisted in rage and he smacked her with his heavy silver hand, purposefully hitting the large bruise on her jaw. "I'm going to make you pay for that, Mudblood. You are going to beg me to fuck you by the time I'm done with you," he said as he finished unbuttoning her blouse and pushed it open as he stepped closer, pressing himself into her thigh. "You'll love it when I finally—"

Hermione used her tiptoes to create a minute amount of space between herself and Pettigrew and then brought her knee up between his legs as fast and hard as she could. It was worth the agony in her ribs to see him down on his knees before her.

"Bloody Mudblood. I'll teach you—"

"Back off Pettigrew," someone said from across the room.

In spite of herself, Hermione's heart leapt at the sound of Draco Malfoy's voice. She forced herself not to look in his direction, but that didn't stop her from trembling as his footsteps approached.

"How did _you_ get in here?" Pettigrew snarled.

"My aunt spoke up for my innocence," Malfoy said offhandedly. Hermione shivered, disgusted by the boy who seemed to have no morals, and no loyalty to either side. "I only came to claim her." He indicated Hermione, who was still struggling to not look at him.

"She's the Dark Lord's property," Pettigrew said proudly, as if that made her his as well.

"Yes, but she's here to entertain us, and I am arguing your claim to her."

"You can't—"

"If you'd rather duel, I'd be happy to duel you for the girl, to see who gets first chance at her," Malfoy said pleasantly.

Pettigrew sneered at him but took a few steps back, knowing he was no match for the boy.

"Nice to see you again, Mudblood," Malfoy said cruelly, a smirk contorting his features. He reached out and ran a hand over her bare belly, then skimmed his fingers along the edge of her bra lightly. Hermione turned her head away from him in shame and anger. "For a witch such as you, you are amazingly lacking in some areas," he told her.

She refused to look at him, staring at the door instead. Hermione imagined herself escaping out it, running until her body couldn't handle the abuse and collapsed. Something shiny caught her eye and she turned her head toward Malfoy despite herself.

"You have made a mess of my life, bitch." His hand was on her stomach again, pressing hard with his thumb into her flesh. She whimpered as he continued, "So now I'm going to make a mess of yours," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. The gleaming knife in his hands was long and looked deathly sharp.

"Malfoy," Hermione begged.

His eyes turned even colder than they had been before and she saw his impassive mask calm his features. She turned her gaze away from his frigid grey eyes and looked down at the knife in his hands. The fingernails were black, she noticed oddly. At least she knew her contract worked.

Hermione watched as the knife sank into her stomach, just above her navel. She heard the Death Eaters all catch their breaths. Malfoy wrenched the blade upward and she choked out a gasp, forgetting the audience. Blood gushed down, soaking her belly, going through her skirt, and trailing down her legs. Malfoy was staring at her, his eyes calm and grey, such a beautiful grey.

She looked down at her belly, at the knife hilt sticking out of it, still held in Malfoy's pale hand. It seemed as if she was looking from a great distance. With a bubble of hilarity, she realized that she felt no pain anymore. Not even her ribs or her jaw ached, nor her arms which were holding up her weight.

Hermione looked back up into Malfoy's eyes. That grey color, like clouds just before a rain… "I'm sorry," she imagined him saying, but she was already floating away from her body and didn't know if he had truly said it or if she just wished he had.

* * *

_Well she's not bleeding on the ballroom floor  
Just for the attention  
_'_Cause that's just ridiculous_

--Panic! At the Disco, "Time To Dance"


	12. The Only One

A/N: Sorry for the really long wait. I find myself very seriously lacking on time and imagination these days.

Chapter 12: The Only One

Wormtail sulkily watched Malfoy for the rest of the night. The stupid boy had stolen his entertainment and grinned at the other Death Eaters like it was some great joke. Something broke inside of him, unleashing a cold, relentless hatred of Draco Malfoy. Next time they met, the boy would not best him so easily.

Peter would have his revenge for this embarrassment.

* * *

Acting normal took all of his strength, and by the end of the night Draco was a taut bundle of nerves, ready to snap at the smallest bit of pressure. When a few house elves came and removed Granger's body a few hours later it was all he could do to not chase after them. But no—only a few hours more and then he would leave again, be away from all of this lunacy.

The Death Eaters seemed reassured by his cruel murder of Hermione. Any question they had of his loyalty was momentarily quelled by it. Draco was interested to find that he had even scored some sort of bonus points for his rejection of Pettigrew. Clearly the Dark Lord's pet was still not highly thought of.

It was a strain on Draco's patience to wait for most of the Death Eaters to clear out of the room and go to bed, but he forced himself to wait until there were only a few remaining before he took his leave. He gave an elegant yawn and said goodnight to his aunt and her company, but stopped halfway across the room to drag the toe of his boot through the puddle of blood on the floor. Draco forced a soft smirk onto his countenance and then left with a spring in his step.

Once the door was safely shut behind him, Draco dropped his careful façade and allowed worry to crease his brow. What if he'd done something wrong? Everything had been planned carefully, but if he'd made even a single mistake—he shuddered and left the thought unfinished. He made a beeline for his room and called a house elf to him immediately upon his arrival.

The elf came and bowed so deeply that his nose touched the floor. Draco tapped his foot impatiently—he was running out of time. "Where is the girl?"

"Pardon, sir?" the elf asked, flinching.

"The girl's body—the one who died tonight. Where is it?"

"The corpse is in the dungeon, my lord."

Draco made a face. "You just leave the bodies to rot in the dungeons?" _That's disgusting_, he thought.

"There are some, sir, who…enjoy the bodies even after death," the elf said calmly. Draco forced his features to remain calm and not betray his expression of distaste. "I can lead you to the corpse if you wish, sir. I think that no one has gone down there yet tonight." The elf bobbed another bow. "Sir."

"Take me there."

The elf nodded and indicated that Draco follow him. He was led through a series of twisting passages and corridors that at last gave way to the dank dungeons. "The body is behind this door, sir. To get out of here just continue down this passage, then take the first right and the exit will be the third door on your left. If you get lost, you should be able to call out for another house elf to assist you." The creature cracked the door open and charmed a vertical red line onto the door. "The line will make sure that no one bothers you, sir," it said and vanished with a sharp _crack!_

Draco glanced at his watch and realized he was trembling. _Deep breath, Draco. You did everything carefully, there's no way that you made a mistake._ Even so, the doorknob rattled in his grip as he pulled the door fully open. The dungeon room was dimly lit and Granger's body was laid out on a large slab of granite. No one had bothered to fix her clothing; everything was stained red with blood and her shirt still hung open. Her skin was pale and his breath caught. "No, please no." He shut the door carefully behind him and did a complicated locking charm on it.

Reality had a dream-like quality to it as Draco crossed the room and pushed aside Granger's cold arm to make room for him to sit. His fingers were shaking badly as he ran them through her unruly hair. "I'm sorry it had to be like this," he whispered gently. "I couldn't think of any other way. Please don't hate me for this. I don't think I could bear it. I don't—I don't know how I feel about you, but I know that having you hate me would be unbearable."

He smiled crookedly and drew his wand. Muttering a quick healing charm he ran the tip of it down the gash in her belly, and the wound knitted itself up to leave a narrow pink scar. Draco put his wand down on the granite and pulled a small vial of glistening black liquid from his jeans. He unstoppered the vial and poured half of it down Granger's parched throat, then put the rubber cork back in and pocketed it once again.

The next few minutes were agony as the antidote did its work. Granger lay on the table unmoving, and Draco couldn't find a pulse in her wrist. He checked his watch again—but no, he'd done everything right on schedule. Then her eyes fluttered open lazily, as if woken from a deep sleep.

Every muscle in Draco's body relaxed and he sank down onto the granite next to her. "Thank Merlin you're all right," he gasped. Granger blinked at him slowly, trying with difficulty to absorb and understand her surroundings. "I was so—" _scared_, he wanted to say, but he couldn't admit such a flaw, not to her. Heat flooded his eyes and he realized with a start that he was about to cry. Blinking furiously, Draco pressed his face into the granite as the tears dripped down.

Her hand fell heavily onto his shoulder and with effort Draco forced himself to look at her. Hermione's eyes calmly assessed his tear-streaked face and though she was baffled by current events, it was clear that she wanted to comfort him. He pushed himself into a sitting position and wiped his face angrily. How could he let her see him cry like that?

Granger's hand flopped onto the granite beside her and he thought he saw her flinch. She worked her mouth slowly, trying to regain control of her muscles and then she blinked rapidly. Draco could almost see her remembering everything, and then she looked up at him with a mixture of confusion, accusation, and hurt splayed on her features.

"I'm sorry—if there had been another way…well, I guess you want to know what happened first. The knife I had"—he pulled it from its sheath—"was coated with a type of quick-acting poison. I charmed the blade to make it look bigger but actually it's barely an inch long, so it didn't go deep enough to hit anything too vital. The Weasley twins helped with the preparations and gave me about a pint of chicken blood in a pill-sized container, so when I pulled the knife out of you I made sure to hit that as well and blood went everywhere. A long while ago Snape gave me a vial of strong poison antidote, for emergencies. Weasley and Potter and I researched poisons, to figure out what would work and how much time I would have to administer the antidote before you were really dead and—"

Draco stopped talking and just sat there breathing heavily, then he leaned down and gathered her roughly in his arms. "I was really worried that it wouldn't work."

"You stabbed me," she said faintly.

He crushed her against him, could feel the weakness in her body, the limpness of her limbs. "I had to."

"They were going to—" With effort, she twisted her head to look at him, to confirm what she thought. She shuddered in his arms.

Neither of them said anything for what seemed like an eternity and then her hands moved slightly to button her shirt. Her fingers trembled and fumbled with the devices, so Draco pushed her gently back down on the slab and did them for her. "It might take you a while to regain complete control of your muscles, but we don't have time for that now," he said coolly. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," she said. Draco helped her to her feet, but she slumped sideways onto him. Sighing, he gathered up his wand and shoved it into a pocket then picked up her emaciated body. He carried her out of the room and down the corridor, took a right, then the third left and found himself in a small abandoned parlor. Draco hesitated, then began to wind his way through the house. He needed to get outside the gates before he could Apparate them back to Potter's meeting point.

Granger was limp in his arms as he carried her, and the only sign that she was awake was that her head didn't loll against his shoulder. Even so, she couldn't have weighed more than 110 pounds, which concerned him. He made it to the entrance hall and paused in the doorway to heft Granger's weight to a more comfortable position. Her arms came up and wrapped themselves about his neck, and the gesture felt so trusting that Draco had an inexplicable urge to protect her from all the evils in their world—including himself.

That thought made him shiver, and he squeezed Hermione's body to his. They exited the house and he was halfway across the lawn when she squirmed in his grip. "I think I can walk now," she whispered. Draco set her down gently and though her legs wobbled, she was—as always—right. Even so, he kept an arm slung around her hip, just in case she grew unsteady again. They didn't speak as they crossed the yard and slipped out the gate, then Draco pulled her close to Disapparate them back to Potter's meeting point.

Something very strange happened then. The moonlight changed, illuminating shards of amber in her eyes as her weary face looked up at him, her expression one of utter gratitude and a terrifying amount of trust. "Thank you," she said quietly, and though her lips were chapped their movement mesmerized him and before Draco knew what was really happening he was leaning over and his mouth was on hers.

Hermione's mouth moved against his, and whether it was a protest or simply her returning the kiss, it pushed Draco back into reality and he straightened. Granger's face was still upturned and her eyes were closed, but except for the crease in her brows that betrayed her confusion her features were calmer than they had been all night.

Feeling a mix of feelings he didn't dare analyze, Draco wrapped his arms more tightly about her and took a deep breath to concentrate…

After a long moment of discomfort, the couple landed on the wood planking of a dock with a sharp _crack_! Granger's legs gave out under her and Draco fumbled to keep her standing but they fell into a heap on the uneven wood. Draco groaned in discomfort as a loose nail dug into his backside. "You okay?" he asked her.

She nodded faintly in response and then there was the pound of footsteps and their bodies were pulled apart.

"Are you okay?"

"You look awful!"

"We were so worried about you!"

"Thank Merlin you're alive."

Potter and Weasley were all over her so fervently that they seemed to forget what she'd been through. Draco stood up and brushed himself off, the preened his hair quickly before snapping, "Back off!" The two other boys paused in their excitement and looked at him. "She needs space and rest, not…_this_" he waved his hand to indicate their reaction. "Can't you see she can barely stand on her own?"

The boys looked at one another somewhat guiltily, then looked back at Granger. Weasley put his arm around her waist to support her as Draco had done and Potter turned and began leading them down the dock. Draco seethed at Weasley for touching her but said nothing as he took the rear.

Potter led their party to a small rowboat tied loosely to the dock. He pulled the vessel closer, hopped the gap and then held everything steady for Weasley to aid Granger into it. The two of them coddled Hermione, seating her near the bow and checking several times that she was all right. Draco was left to leap over the ever-increasing gap between dock and boat and then untie it as well. At the sound of the rope coils hitting the deck the other boys jumped, then looked at Draco guiltily as they went and took up their oars.

_They're pathetic,_ Draco fumed. _They should be hurrying to keep her safe, not clinging all over her. Do they not understand that Apparition paths can be traced? _She _may have the knowledge and skill to scramble the trail, but she is in no condition to be doing so, and without her wand…well, it's near impossible._ Draco shook his head and exhaled slowly, trying to lessen his anger—it wouldn't do him any good here.

He carefully made his way to Granger and, sitting on the board behind her, leaned over to speak. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she admitted wearily. Draco's eyes looked over her, noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way her shoulders slouched and how her arms lay at her sides, as if it was too much effort to raise them to her lap.

"Yeah, you look it." He searched for something to say that wouldn't feel bland or pointless. "Think you can make it to the house? It's about a fifteen-minute row from here."

"I think so," she answered, but she didn't look like she would. Granger worked her mouth wordlessly, trying to think of the right words. At last, she said, "I need…I need someone to lean on."

"Weasley?" Granger gave a small half-shrug, slouching lower in her seat. Keeping his voice even, Draco asked, "Would I be okay?"

Hermione nodded slightly and Draco moved forward to sit beside her. Her malnourished body pressed against his and her head fell to his shoulder. Not wanting to ruin it, Draco didn't move for a long minute, but then he reached between them and took her hand into his own. It was icy cold—he had felt the chill even through his pants—and he reached over to take her other, then enclosed her smaller hands in his own.

By the time Potter and Weasley got them to the little island, Granger was shivering with cold, despite that Draco had used heating charms on most of her clothing. Draco was very quickly relieved of her company, as the other two boys practically pushed him aside so they could flank her. Though he was annoyed with this, Draco stuck his nose in the air and led them to the gates.

The house was modest in its size (compared to Malfoy Manor) but opulent in its construction. The baroque architecture was crafted from expensive marble and looked no less grand on such a small scale. Draco always forgot how pretty it was. He paused at the gates, allowing them to recognize his lineage before he leaned close to the keyhole and whispered, "The dragon has returned."

The gates swung open soundlessly and Draco led the Golden Trio across the lawns and to the grand house. He stopped at the door and ran his hand down the marble, using his special sense of magic to find the right spot before he placed his hand flat against it and repeated his password. The heavy marble door opened and as he walked into the room the torches flickered into life.

"We want her room near us," Potter told him.

Draco tensed. "No, and I will hear no arguments about this. There is a room set up for her already."

"Malfoy, we will not allow you to—"

"Do not tempt me, Potter," Draco said, whipping around and aiming his wand inches away from Potter's throat. Weasley made a motion like he was reaching for his wand, but was blocked by Granger's body. "If you do not do as I say then I will not hesitate to kick you out of this house. We both know it responds to my blood and does my will."

Potter's jaw tightened but he held his ground until Granger wrapped her fingers around his arm. "It's all right," she said quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Just…don't fight…please."

Draco wheeled quickly to conceal his smirk. It would only anger the boys that he had won the argument, and he didn't want to upset Granger more. Her expression as he sank the knife in her belly flashed before him and it sobered him. "This way," he said calmly, his mien utterly stoic.

As he led the Trio through the halls, Draco could feel the anger of Potter and Weasley hot on his back. _This isn't about me, _he thought bitterly—but that was an argument for another time, and Draco's first priority was Granger's wellbeing.

Stopping before a split in two halls, Draco said, "I'll take her from here. Your rooms are—"

"No. We stay with her."

"The passage will not allow it."

Weasley narrowed his eyes at Draco and opened his mouth to spew furious words; Potter began to pull out his wand. It was Granger who once again stalled them. "Please, don't. I'll be fine," she whispered. She shivered violently between the other boys. "I trust…"

"Hermione," Weasley whined.

"Are you sure?" Potter asked, his expression hurt.

Draco held out his hand to her, and she reached out shakily and took it. The other boys stepped back reluctantly, looking betrayed. "You may see her in the morning. If you continue down this corridor and take the last left you should find yourselves in a familiar part of the house."

Stepping closer to Hermione, Draco told her, "I'm going to need to carry you." She nodded slightly and he carefully hefted her weight. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder and he carried her slowly down the narrower hall. He could feel Potter and Weasley staring at his back but ignored them. Only Malfoys could tread this hall—he was in no danger of being followed.

At the end of the corridor was a small hall with three doors leading off of it. Draco awkwardly reached for one of the door handles and twisted, then set Granger down within. Holding her with one arm, he used magic to light the fireplace. She swayed in his grip, which worried him. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged minutely, which concerned him even more. "I'll make you well, I promise. Stupid girl, you should've just stayed with us."

"Didn't want…any of you hurt," she said with effort. At a loss for words, Draco brushed her hair back from her face and gifted her with a rare smile, then led her over to the bed.

Examining the vials beside the bed, Draco handed her a Dreamless Sleep Potion. "Drink it. You need sleep." Without protest, she downed the liquid and was asleep within seconds. "Probably didn't even need the potion," he muttered to himself.

Draco snapped his fingers for a house elf, and when none appeared he sighed. He always forgot that this set of rooms were bounded by a different type of magic, and the elves wouldn't hear his summons. Glancing at her sleeping form, Draco shrugged and left the room.

Weasley was, predictably, waiting for him at the end of the hall. "What do you want?" Draco groaned.

"Where did you take her?"

"To a more private set of rooms, where she won't be disturbed."

"Why can't I walk down that hall?"

"I don't know," Draco said exasperatedly. "Maybe it's magic."

Weasley gripped his arm tightly. "Don't toy with me," he growled.

"Disgusting," Draco said with a sneer. "That'd be tasteless of me." He brushed Weasley's hand off and began to walk down the hall.

The fist came out of nowhere, registering in Draco's peripheral vision just enough that he turned his face to see what it was and the punch landed dangerously close to his eye. Draco staggered against a wall, at first stunned and then he glared at Weasley. "Do _not _take this out on me. Do you think that you and Potter are the only ones who have suffered because of what happened?"

Weasley pulled Draco up by his robes and punched him again, this time catching half his right eye and leaving sparks in his vision. Draco kicked out and was pleased when his foot encountered something soft and fleshy. Weasley dropped him and bumped into another wall. "Oh, indeed," the redhead wheezed. "Must be really hard for you. All you have to do is stab someone you already hate. Bet you just wish it really had been a killing blow. Did you enjoy seeing your precious master again?"

Draco's whole body flushed cold, even his eye, which had been feeling very hot earlier. But instead of feeling angry, he kept remembering Granger over and over again. In his head, he could see her defiantly kneeing Wormtail in the groin, remembered the _wrongness _of the body beneath her open shirt, the look in her eyes as he thrust the knife into her. "Malfoy," she had begged. He wanted to vomit just thinking of it all, could feel his stomach and throat muscles clenching and had there been anything in his stomach he was sure it would be on the floor by now.

"I see," Draco muttered. "Feeling bad about the plan Weasley? Horrified that I could actually go through with it? You and Potter wouldn't have been able to, we all know that—and it's not even because it was the Death Eaters. Take away the Dark Lord and his minions, and you and Potter still wouldn't have been able to kill her even if it was the only way to save her.

"So, now the question is…do I love her more than you, or less?"

Weasley stared at him, unable to formulate words, unable to understand even to the smallest degree, what Draco had been through. He sighed and turned to find another way to his potion ingredients, and was startled to find Potter standing mere meters away, watching them. "You don't love her," Weasley whispered behind him. "You don't love her," he repeated louder.

Feeling suddenly angry with both of them, Draco walked until he stood even with Potter. "Imagine feeling the knife go into her body, dragging it through six inches of her flesh." He stared at his hands. "So much blood, and I couldn't tell how much was hers. Could you have done it?" _No. I was the only one who could. The only one_, Draco thought miserably.

Not waiting for a response, Draco left the two boys staring after him once more. He made his way to the small pantry that was always kept stocked with essential potions items. His eyes filled with tears and his right one was beginning to swell closed, but he waited until the door was securely shut behind him before he allowed himself to be overcome with great, gasping sobs.

After all of his emotions were out, Draco grabbed a bag off the shelf and began stuffing it with potions ingredients. He _would _fix her. After all, she had fixed him.

* * *

_My role in this mess  
Is not something that I can be proud of  
But it's all going to change_

--Snow Patrol, "Wow"


	13. Vigoratius Stone

A/N: THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT. No, I have not forgotten this story. I am just suffering from overwork and writer's block. More action next chapter, I promise. Those of you who have stayed with this story for the past 5 months…seriously, THANK YOU. No one calls me back to my writing like devoted fans.

Chapter 13: Vigoratius Stone

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione whispered.

The man with the half-moon glasses gave her a small nod. "'Professor' no longer, but yes."

"Where—where am I?" she asked, twisting to see her surroundings. Everything was covered in a thick mist that obscured her vision.

Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "You aren't dead yet, so you cannot see."

"But I'm close to it."

"Yes." He tilted his head slightly, as if considering. "However, you grow more alive with every minute."

As he mentioned it, she noticed that the mist was becoming thicker. "How long do I have to remain here?"

"Most likely a few minutes. I know you have many things to ask me."

Hermione smiled at him. "The Horcruxes—we found two more of them, but how do we destroy them?"

"Ah, an excellent question. You must use something very powerful to accomplish that. I myself used Gryffindor's sword to break the ring. It chipped the sword, but the ring broke all the same." He gave her a small smile. "I trust you can find other ways to destroy the rest. I have faith in you to find a way."

Knowing she wouldn't get any more information out of him on that subject, Hermione sighed. "Do you know who R. A. B. is?"

"R. A. B…." He mulled over the letters, then his eyes twinkled with realization. "You are closer to that answer than you think, Miss Granger."

The mist had almost completely obscured him by then. "Please, I have more questions."

"The knowledgeable mind will forever have questions, Miss Granger. I must apologize for having neglected you in my life. You were the most adept student I ever encountered."

The mist was moving more rapidly now, and Dumbledore was vanishing from sight. "Professor, the locket you and Harry got, it's not—" But the mist had closed in around her, and Hermione called frantically, "Professor Dumbledore!" He didn't answer, and she knew that he was gone. "But I need help," she whispered into the mist.

Hermione stood there for a long time, watching as the mist slowly covered her body as well. "Professor Dumbledore," she repeated, wishing he would come back and finish their conversation.

"I am here. But it is time for you to go back to the living," his voice said behind her, and then she felt a strong shove.

* * *

Granger sat up in bed forcefully "Dumbledore!" she yelled.

Draco was awake in an instant. He had been dozing beside the potion he was brewing. "Are you all right?"

She was breathing heavily and looking around. "Where am I?" she asked, bewildered.

"At one of my family's other residences."

"Where's Harry? I need to talk to Harry and Ron," she said.

Draco scowled and gave his potion a half-stir. "They're in another wing. Do you not remember?"

"Oh," she said simply. "Will you take me to them?"

"No. You need to recover."

"It won't take long," she protested.

"I will not allow you to leave this room," Draco told her.

Anger flashed in her eyes, reminding him of her usual self. "You don't have control over me."

"Actually, I do while we're here. You can't get to the other part of the house without me. But that's beside the point. This room is special. There are none like it in the house. Beneath the paint on the walls of this room is Vigoratius Stone, which, as I'm sure you know—"

Hermione had relaxed back on the pillows somewhat reluctantly. "Has healing properties. Yes, I know of Vigoratius Stone. It's often used in potions, though I've never heard of a room built of it." She gave him a look that was part endearment and part accusation, "And I'm sure that you putting me in here has nothing to do with keeping Harry and Ron away."

Draco removed his potion from the fire and set it aside to cool. "Of course not. I know—" He stopped and took a deep breath to stop himself from speaking. It hurt that she would forever love them more, and it was no one's fault but his own. He had ruined their relationship long ago, through the six years at school with her. Too late to regret it now.

"Know what?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Never mind," he muttered. "How are you feeling? It's nearly morning, I told them they could see you, but if you're not feeling well…"

"I am feeling much better," she admitted, climbing from the bed. Granger stretched and twisted, trying to feel what hurt still. "My ribs ache."

Draco nodded. "Then they were broken and likely are only cracked now." He moved from his steaming cauldron and picked a potion vial off the bedside. "Drink this, it should complete their healing."

Granger gasped at the sight of him. "What happened to you? Your eye…" She reached out for his face, but he flinched away.

"It's nothing. Mostly healed by now anyway. Drink this," he repeated, thrusting the vial into her hands.

Hermione took the vial. "If you hate them so much, why do you insist on protecting them?"

Draco gave a short bark of laughter. "Would you rather that I whine about it? It doesn't matter, Granger." _They were just worried about you_, he thought. The thought shocked him. _She's changed me,_ he realized with surprise, looking at her. _Why am I not trying to desecrate them in her eyes?_

She saw his look, and though her brows creased together (as they often did when she had a question) she didn't ask. Perhaps she was scared of the answer. Knowing her, it probably wasn't a question he was ready to answer anyway. They stood awkwardly for a minute, and then she finally drank the potion.

Hermione looked down at her clothing and wrinkled her nose. Draco smiled, and as she opened her mouth to speak he said, "You probably want a bath."

"That would be excellent," she said gratefully.

"You might feel a little lightheaded when you leave the room," he warned her. "Leaving prolonged exposure to such a large quantity of Vigoratius Stone and all; there's none in the bathroom." She nodded and he led her to a door in the corner that she hadn't noticed before. The bathroom was large, though not quite so big as the Prefect's baths at Hogwarts, and the tub was already full of steaming water. "You should have everything you need in here," he told her as she leaned against the wall for support, "but if you need anything else, just ask—I'll be in the other room."

She nodded and he closed the bathroom door behind her. Despite his promise to be in the other room, Draco traveled to one of his mother's rooms in the house and searched for clothing. He frowned at everything he found; Granger's current form was too emaciated for anything in his mother's closet. At last picking out the smallest items his mother had, he went to his room and grabbed some clothes he had outgrown. He took the small pile of clothing back to the room of Vigoratius Stone and then left to warn the house elves to begin breakfast.

* * *

Hermione sank into the warm water gratefully and soaked for a few minutes before searching for shampoo. Her head hurt from thinking too much. She liked Ron. Ron. Right? Maybe. But she had kissed Draco last night and it felt different from when she had kissed Ron. On the other hand, she remembered the calm in his grey eyes as he stabbed her. How he could be so indifferent and unemotional when he wanted to be. Ron, at least, was honest about his feelings but she could never tell with Malfoy.

She turned her thoughts to the Horcruxes. Dumbledore hadn't been particularly helpful, although they now knew that they could use Gryffindor's sword to destroy the Horcruxes. But if it had chipped when he used it on the ring, how many more could it break before the blade shattered? Frowning, she tried to think of other things. They had destroyed the ring and the diary…a basilisk fang? Or maybe it was just basilisk poison. But that would be exceedingly difficult to come by. McGonagall might hand them the sword, but even _if _the basilisk was still in the Chamber of Secrets, there was no guarantee that the fangs were still there, or that the poison had not lost its potency.

Thinking, she rinsed her hair and worked conditioner through it. _Sounds like we need to make a trip to Hogwarts, _she thought. "Hogwarts," she murmured…use of the Restricted Section could be helpful. Hermione wished that Dumbledore had been more forthcoming.

"Well, I'll figure something out," she told herself. Hermione was proud to say that she could find a solution to almost any situation, so long as she didn't over-think it. An answer would come to her eventually. She submerged her head and rinsed the conditioner out of it, then stepped out of the huge tub and dried off with a large fluffy towel. She looked through some drawers until she found a brush and sat on the tile floor, calmly brushing through her hair. It was sleeker than usual, considering her ordeal. Curious, she looked at the conditioner bottle and rolled her eyes when she read: "Magically enhanced formula removes _all_ tangles from hair!"

Hermione checked her appearance in the mirror and flinched, then decided it had to be good enough. Besides, at least she was clean now, and didn't reek so terribly. She fussed with her hair, seeing how it looked up in a bun and then stopped. "Stop that, Hermione," she chided herself, wrapping a towel securely around her body. "If he cares about looks, then he may as well just go off with some pretty little chit whose hair products weigh more than her brain."

Checking that the towel covered all of the important parts of her, Hermione went to the door between rooms and cautiously opened it. The room beyond was empty. "Malfoy?" she asked, slightly disappointed. He was nowhere to be found, but there was a pile of clothes and a note on a chair by the bathroom door.

_Granger_, the note said in a neat hand, _I thought you might like some privacy. Feel free to wear anything in this pile. Come outside when you're ready, I'll be waiting in the hall. –Draco_

And then, as an afterthought: _P.S. I'm afraid that I couldn't find any bras that would fit you, but we can get you some by the end of breakfast._

The note made Hermione chuckle. "How thoughtful of him," she giggled to herself. She rummaged through the clothes and was amused to see a strange mixture of boy's jeans and women's skirts, frilly tops and tee-shirts from a wizard band. Picking out a few items that seemed approximately her size and were more on the demur side, she retreated to the bathroom to try them on.

Absolutely nothing fit well, but in the end Hermione settled on a pair of –Draco's?– old jeans that at least wouldn't fall off her hips, though they were very low, and a pale blue blouse that must have been Narcissa's. After some debate, she had decided to not wear a bra (this decision was very much influenced by the fact that when she tried to wash her old one, it came very close to disintegrating and still never got clean).

Hermione finally emerged from her room feeling self-conscious but clean. When she saw Malfoy, she couldn't help but smile. He had fallen asleep slumped against the wall and his hair was falling messily out of its normal style, which somehow reminded Hermione of a young cousin of hers who had tried to stay up late at her Aunt Debra's new year's party. Kevin had been found sleeping under the refreshments table, curled up around a bowl of cheese puffs.

She stood there and watched him for a few minutes. Draco's face, which could alternately hold a world of emotion or be as devoid of it as a stone, was simply relaxed. Hermione was completely fascinated; she knelt beside him to examine him closer. His face had his father's coloring but his mother's delicate bone structure; his hair –she reached out hesitantly and brushed some of it back from his face– was surprisingly thick, but smooth, and had the slightest wave in it. She suspected it was completely straight only because of the product he used to slick it back.

His mouth, she was startled to realize, was exactly like Sirius's. _Must be from Narcissa,_ she decided. He shifted in his sleep and Hermione jumped. _Best wake him now before he catches me._ "Malfoy?" she asked, reaching out and brushing her fingers along his shoulder and down his arm. He shifted again, and her attention was caught by his hands. His fingers were even slimmer than hers. She smiled lightly; Draco had hands like her father, who jokingly called them "piano hands" (he had never played, but everyone seemed to ask him if he did).

"Draco?" she asked again. He snapped awake, and she found herself staring at his grey eyes. They were a light grey now, like faint brushings of dawn. "You fell asleep," she said needlessly.

"Sorry," he muttered as he looked over her outfit. Hermione was once again very conscious of her clothing—and a certain lack of clothing—but he said nothing to make her awkward. Standing, he asked, "How do you want to do this? I could carry you again, or you can stand on my feet. Or, if you'd prefer, I can get a broomstick and you can fly—"

"No!" She said. Even the idea of flying on a broomstick was making her head spin. "I don't care how, but not a broom."

They stood there awkwardly for a minute. "I think the easiest way would probably be to carry you," he said after a long pause.

"Okay," she said. They stood there even more awkwardly, and then he reached out for her and put his arm behind her back. She blushed brightly, but he kindly pretended not to notice as he bent to gather up her legs behind her knee. _This is so much less awkward when I'm practically unconscious,_ she thought, lightly putting her arms around his neck as he adjusted her weight.

Neither of them spoke as he walked down the hall. He placed her in the corridor outside gently and they stood facing each other awkwardly for a moment. "So, where are Harry and Ron?" she asked lightly.

"Probably at breakfast. If not, I'll have an elf summon them from there," he said and led the way down the hall. Hermione strode after him through the labyrinthine halls, trying to memorize a route. She made rhymes in her head to connect passageways together in her memory, and didn't even realize that she was completely in her own world until Draco reached out and touched her arm.

"Hmmm?" she asked, still surveying her surroundings critically.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Malfoy asked in amazement.

"Sorry, no," she said with a small smile. "What was that?"

"I said the library was just down this hall and on your left and half expected you to—" Hermione was already taking off down the hall excitedly, all of her assessing forgotten as she plunged through the archway on her left and into a dazzling room of books and papers. It smelled like cedar and ink, and she sighed at the pleasing aroma. She hurried to the nearest shelf and ran her fingers over the spines, memorizing each texture.

"—do that," came a voice.

"What?" Hermione asked dazedly.

Draco laughed kindly. "I was saying that I half expected you to come running down the corridor and leave me behind, but didn't finish the sentence when you did just that." His gaze was centered on her, so intense that it made her uncomfortable and she turned back to the books. "You can come here any time you wish," he said.

Hermione grinned broadly, her fingers still on the spines. "Thank you," she said gratefully. Her stomach chose this inopportune time to gurgle loudly.

"Would you like to eat in here, or the dining room?" Malfoy asked after a minute when she made no move away from the books.

"I can't eat in here!" she exclaimed, so forcefully that he looked troubled. "I might get something on the books…"

His distressed look vanished, replaced with an odd, soft smirk. "I've seen you eat, Granger. The books have nothing to fear." She scowled at him, and he amended, "The dining room, then."

Hermione reluctantly followed him out of the room, and focused instead on memorizing the route to the library. They came to the dining room a few minutes later, and Draco snapped his fingers. A house elf appeared with a _crack!_ and bowed low. "Is breakfast ready, Millie?"

"Yes, Draco!" she piped; Hermione, surprised, looked from the elf to Draco—she'd never heard a house elf use someone's first name. The elf turned to Hermione with wide eyes, "This one is Millie, Miss. May I get you anything this morning?"

"Oh, um…" Hermione hesitated. "No, no, I'm fine, thank you."

"Millie, could you get the other two and have breakfast set out within the next five or ten minutes?"

"Of course," she said. Hermione was astonished—there were no titles, no recognition of Malfoy's higher "status." Millie bowed again and vanished.

Draco turned to Hermione and looked her up and down; she blushed. "Did you need any new clothes?"

Hermione nodded, feeling her face go even warmer. Malfoy clapped his hands together twice and another elf appeared. "Welcome back, Draco," the elf said, giving a small half-bow.

"Hello, Tildan. I would like you to get her anything she needs. I'll be in the kitchen if you have any questions," he said. Before he left her, he turned to Hermione and said, "I'll be right back. Feel free to ask for anything—I'm not lacking on money."

She stared at his retreating back, and then turned to the house elf, who was looking at her expectantly. "May I ask for your name, Miss?"

"Hermione Granger," she said.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger, what do you need? I usually get clothing, but if you need any other shopping done, I am at your service." He bowed again, lower than he had for Malfoy.

"Well, I do need some new knickers…" she told him her sizes and then asked also for a pair of jeans and a few plain shirts. The elf nodded respectfully, and when she was done he bowed again and thanked her before he Disapparated. Thoroughly confused—she had never been treated like an equal by a house elf, they always made her feel uncomfortably superior (though perhaps that was because, besides Tildan, she had never met one who spoke in first person)—Hermione went to the table and took a seat.

Just a few minutes later, Draco returned with six house elves at his back, all of them carrying trays of steaming food except one who had a tray of pitchers. Malfoy put his tray down first and took the chair next to her while the elves arranged the rest of the dishes on the table.

"Hermione!" She was out of her seat almost as soon as her name was off their lips and managed to take only a few steps before they enveloped her in a massive hug. They didn't let go of her until her crushed lungs forced out a weak cough, and then Harry and Ron took a step back to let her breathe.

"Are you sure you're the same person we saw last night?" Ron teased huskily, his arm still around her waist. Embarrassed and uncomfortable, Hermione edged away from his grip and smiled feebly at them.

Malfoy coughed gently, bringing Hermione's attention back to him. She sat at the table and looked at the food for the first time, her mouth watering in anticipation. Harry sat across from her and Ron on her left, and the two boys stared attentively at her, studiously ignoring Draco. Hermione noted this and as she began to fill her plate, said, "I think I should stay one more night in that special room of yours, Malfoy." Then, as Harry's and Ron's faces hardened and Ron sent a dark look at Malfoy, she added, "He has a room that's made of Vigoratius Stone. Isn't that great? Too many healing potions can be more harmful for the body than good, so it was fantastic to wake up mostly healed but without needing to use potions for any of it." She grinned at them, and leaned over her plate as Harry and Ron shared a look.

When Hermione looked up once again, Malfoy staring at her inscrutably, and Harry and Ron were somewhat sheepish. She sighed as she realized that they wouldn't ever apologize for what they'd done. "The food's really good, Malfoy," she muttered.

"I'll be sure to tell the elves. They pretend like they don't like the appreciation, but they get it little enough, they deserve it." He shrugged. "My family hardly ever comes here."

"Then why do you own it?" Ron sneered.

Draco turned impassively to face him. "Because my parents find it prestigious to have homes in many places. It's also nice when you need somewhere to run to. Came in handy this time, didn't it?"

Ron sneered, rolled his eyes, and began eating as ravenously as Hermione, though he hadn't been starving for a week. No one spoke after that, and though the silence was tense, Hermione was too tired to play mediator and dispel it. After everyone was done, they all looked to her expectantly. Hermione hesitated, then offered, "I think we should try to destroy those Horcruxes while we're here."

They were still silent, then Draco stood and offered her his arm to help her up. "Why don't we meet in the library in ten minutes? You two should get the Horcruxes and meet us there. Hermione, Tildan should be waiting for you just off the hall, I'll take you to him and then I need to make some adjustments to the library. Do you know how to get there?"

She nodded, and Harry and Ron left with quick hugs and lingering glares. Malfoy led her to Tildan, who indeed was waiting for her expectantly with clothing and knickers. "You're sure you can find your way back to the library?"

Hermione smiled slightly, "I'm sure. Thank you. I have Tildan if I get lost."

Draco looked at her hesitantly, then leaned in for an awkward hug and walked away stiffly. She blinked after him in confusion. _I like Ron, though, right? _she thought, but it just made her head hurt. _Ron, do something before it's too late… _Shaking her head, she accepted Tildan's offerings and redressed herself in the new clothing, then made her way to the library. She opened the door to find three grim faces looking at her, and promised herself that she would figure out how to destroy the Horcruxes.

* * *

_Drowning just as fast as I can_

_But don't throw me a line_

_Don't reach out your hand_

_Cause I'm on the brink of something beautiful_

—Mae "Ready and Waiting To Fall"


	14. Her

A/N: Yes, it has been forever. For those of you who are still reading...thank you.

Chapter 14: Her

The library was completely changed when Hermione walked in. Malfoy had made it much roomier, with a large space in the middle of the room where they could practice spells. The Horcruxes were lying on a table in front of the boys, and several house elves were walking amongst the shelves and stacking books on and around the table for them to peruse. However, it was not the activity that had made the room so tense, it was Harry, Ron and Draco, each sitting silently at the table and determinedly not looking at each other.

_This has got to stop,_ Hermione thought. _I'll make them accept each other, no matter how hard._

"Sitting around isn't going to destroy those Horcruxes," she joked weakly. The three boys looked at her and then reached for books. With a mental groan, she seated herself at the head of the table and pulled a tome toward herself. She lacked the energy to disperse the tension at the moment.

They all studied quietly for about an hour, only soft mumblings and shuffling of pages breaking the silence. Harry and Ron fidgeted, but they understood the importance of the matter and tried to focus. "Draco, would you pass me that book over there?" Hermione asked at length.

His head snapped up, giving her a puzzled look, while Harry and Ron turned simultaneously to glare at him. Belatedly, she realized what she'd done, and held out her hand impatiently to receive the tome, hoping that everyone would ignore what she'd said. Malfoy took his cues from her, and as his face went frustratingly unreadable, handed her the book she'd requested. Harry had gone back to his text as well, but there was a stiffness in his jaw that said he was not going to overlook her mistake so quickly. Ron turned to stare at her, gaping.

"Oh, please, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "We've been traveling together a long time, am I really not allowed to use his first name?"

"No!" Ron said. "He's our enemy."

She bristled. "Really? Because I happen to think he's done us more help than harm. What proof do you have that he's not on our side?"

"People like _that _don't change, Hermione," He hissed. "He will always be a slimy—"

Hermione stood angrily. "Stop it, Ron!"

He rose to meet her, and leaned aggressively over the table towards her. Draco made a move, as if to stand and defend her, but Hermione glanced at him warningly and he stayed in his seat, eyes averted. "I won't stop it," Ron said, his voice a low growl, "He is winning you over with his lies, and you can't see what's really happening."

"And what, Ron, is that?"

He glared, opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it. His expression turned to one of hurt and then he backed away a couple of steps, rubbing his face. "Just trust me, Hermione. Dealings with _him _are not going to bring anything but trouble." He turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the room.

Hermione stood, looking after him in confusion. Did Ron know something that she didn't? "Harry, do you know—"

"No," Harry said uneasily. So, he had noticed the change too. "He does have a point, though," he said slowly.

She scowled. "Do you really believe that?"

He turned to face her, and countered, "Did you see his face?"

"But he was just angry! It doesn't matter how much he believes what he said…" her voice trailed off. She'd never seen Ron look so…ugh! There weren't even words to describe it. Hermione shook her head slowly.

"I'll go talk to him," Harry offered.

"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully. He gave her a half-hug on his way out, murmuring that it was great to have her back with them.

She slumped into her chair and flicked idly through the pages of the tome in front of her, but her heart wasn't in it anymore.

* * *

Hermione had fallen asleep on the book in front of her hours ago, and Draco was alternating between reading the text in front of him and watching her sleep. She looked exhausted, and thin from her recent adventure. He closed the book quietly and conjured up a couch for her to sleep on, then carefully lifted her from the chair, peeled the pages from her cheek, and set her down on the sofa.

Her eyes fluttered briefly, and he explained the situation to her. She was asleep before he was done, he was sure, but that was just for the best. "Three kilometers," he muttered to himself, stepping out into the hall to summon Tildan. He was going to break that rule of the contract, that much was certain. Draco only hoped to be back before she awoke again.

At his command, Tildan appeared with a cracking noise. "Be here for her when she wakes," he told the elf. "Get her anything that she needs, spare no expense." He stopped, uncertain of how much he should entrust to the house elf.

"If she asks where you've gone, what should I say?" Tildan was looking at him knowingly, and Draco scowled. The damned elf already knew where he was going.

"Tell her you don't know."

"I don't like lying," Tildan said reproachfully.

"Bloody hell," Draco snapped irritably. No wonder he had stopped coming here. "You know," he said cajolingly, "a real house elf wouldn't question his master." The side of Tildan's mouth rose in the tiniest of smirks, and Draco sighed, uttering curses under his breath. "Fine, if she asks either tell her that I didn't tell you where I went, or—or, something, figure it out yourself if you don't like my plan! But whatever you do, _do not _tell her where I am."

Tildan sighed, but acceded. "Her territory is dangerous," he warned. "How long should we wait?"

Draco thought a second, then said, "If I'm not back in three days, implement Plan D."

The elf's jaw nearly dropped. "D? You can't be seri—" his expression changed, and Tildan gave a small chuckle. "Oh, I see. The problem is that you are far _too _serious. Does she even _like_ you?" he asked.

Sneering, Draco ignored the question and took off down the hall.

* * *

Ron had not spoken for a long, long time. Harry felt uncomfortable with prodding, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Ron knew somewhat more than he was saying. "What was all that about?"

The redhead shrugged, and rolled over on his bed so that his back was to Harry. He frowned, and after a long moment, finally said, "He was right, you know…what he said last night."

Ron scoffed, as Harry supposed he would have. "No," he said stubbornly.

"Do you really think you could have hurt her?" Harry asked, "Even if it was the only way to save her?"

"I wouldn't have needed to hurt her," Ron said, "I would have found another way."

"But if there was no other way," Harry said exasperatedly, "If time was short and you needed to do it _now _or risk losing her forever, would you have been able to do it?" Ron was silent, but this time the silence was angry. "I don't think I could do it," Harry said softly. "Besides," he added, "It's only his first name. Common courtesy to use it, by now."

"You don't," Ron snapped.

"No," Harry mused, "But neither does she, most of the time." He hesitated, "You know, it's all our fault."

"What is?"

"Them being close. She was the only one who was neutral enough to share a room with him. If we had been more willing to bend…"

"Harry, shut up."

He obliged, waiting for Ron to say something. The silence grew prolonged. Harry had an itch at the back of his head that he wanted to scratch, but he was afraid if he moved Ron wouldn't say what he had on his mind.

At last, the words came, harsh as a whip, "You haven't seen what I've seen, Harry!"

"What does that mean?"

Ron still wasn't inclined to look at him, but he lifted one arm into the air, letting his sleeve fall past his elbow. There were long scars all down his arms, the result of the brains at the Department of Mysteries a year ago. "They did something to me, Harry," he said hoarsely.

"I don't understand."

* * *

Hermione awoke to find Tildan sitting in a chair, staring at her. She had no time to feel uncomfortable, as the elf said briskly, "Draco asked me to wait for you to wake up."

"Oh," she said. Her head was still foggy with sleep; there didn't seem to be much else to say to that.

"Do you need anything?" Tildan asked.

"No," she answered hesitantly, "Where did Malfoy go?"

"I'm not supposed to say," Tildan responded. "But if he's not back in three days I have orders."

"What kind of orders? Where did he go? Is it dangerous?" she asked in a rush.

"Oh, not the sort of dangerous that you need to worry about," Tildan told her serenely. "I'm afraid the Vigoratious Room is off limits, due to Draco's departure, but I can show you to another room, if you'd like? We have one just a few doors down, then you won't need to walk far to get back here."

Hermione was too weary to complain or ask more questions and simply allowed herself to be led to the other room, where she fell into bed and promptly slept.

* * *

The forest was thick, and fog obscured the majority of Draco's vision. He sighed and wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. She'd always loved being tucked away from the world; he knew she would be angry for involving her in this, but they needed her help. Draco continued to move deeper into the forest.

There was a growling noise off to his right and he stopped mid-stride. "Nox," he thought, and the light on the tip of his wand went out. He began to speak, but all that came out was "I'm sorry." Curse Hermione and her contract. Draco pulled out a muggle voice recording device from his pocket and hit the play button. "I'm here to see Vonyella," his voice said electronically into the fog.

"Prove it," the wolf growled. Ellie's wolves always surprised him with their size. This one, appearing from the fog to sit between two trees in front of him, came up past his waist. Draco put his broomstick on the ground and reached into a pocket of his pants and pulled a small knife out. He quickly ran it across the length of his palm, and the wolf leaned forward to lick a drop of blood off his finger before it dripped.

It considered for a long time, then rumbled, "This way," and walked away. Draco grabbed his broom and nearly had to run to keep up with the wolf, and he sensed the presence of Ellie's other pets on either side of him through the trees.

Her place was a small cottage, so diminutive that it would have fit into his bedroom at Malfoy Manor. The wolves halted at the tree line, growling softly at him. The leading wolf, who he noted was smaller than the others (a very Vonyella thing to do, naming him the leader of the pack), walked straight up to the door and sat on its haunches. Draco followed it, and went inside when the door opened on its own.

Only two candles were lit inside the house, but Draco could tell where Vonyella was immediately by the gleam of her white-blond hair. "You came," she said softly. "You don't visit often."

"I'm sorry," he said. That, at least, was sincere, but it reminded him once again that he'd broken the contract and needed to communicate with Vonyella otherwise. He pulled the recorder from his pocket once more and hit play. As his voice explained everything, he propped his broom beside the door.

Ellie waved her hand and the voice recording stopped. "All this I know," she said. "Why are you here?"

He drew a pad of paper from his robes and scrawled on it, _We need help._

"And how do you expect me to help?" she asked, after reading what he'd written.

Draco hesitated. _Ellie, you're the most powerful witch I know. _"No I'm not," she said, reading over his shoulder. He scratched out what he was going to write next and wrote instead, _Don't argue with me. We both know you're more intuitive than she is and you have more—_he hesitated—_experience. I think you can help us._

Vonyella sighed and leaned over to kiss him. He accepted her kiss stiffly; he'd forgotten how intimate she could be. At last she pulled away, with a soft giggle at his discomfort and walked out the door. Draco grabbed his belongings and hurried after her.

Ellie walked with him outside of her wards, her wolves following them through the woods on either side, except for the alpha, who walked at her side. She did not speak, and it would have felt wrong to break the silence anyhow. Not that Draco could talk now anyways. It made him feel bad, he wished he could catch up with her a bit, and apologize for not visiting in so many years.

Just outside of the wards she had put up to guard her safe place, Ellie stopped. Draco felt the magical boundaries melt away with the woods and stared down the small hill into the meadow below. A light rain was falling—he hadn't noticed the precipitation while under the cover of the thick trees, but now it fell around them like a mist.

Falling to her knees in the tall grass, Ellie and her lead wolf had a whispered conversation. The rain fell harder, and the words and growls had clearly become more argumentative. "Kyrin is coming with us," she announced at last, standing. Raindrops were caught in her long silvery hair like dew, and Draco brushed some of her hair back into place.

"I'm—" he began, then sighed and grinned ruefully.

"Let's go, then," Ellie said. She reached down to touch Kyrin's head with her palm and Disapparated with a crack. Draco followed suit, arriving a moment later at the dock on the far side of his family's house. He could not help but be exasperated that Vonyella had brought the rain with them. She tended to forget the extent of her magics.

The wolf was already waiting in the boat expectantly, seemingly oblivious to the rain that fell steadily harder around them. Vonyella got into the boat gracefully, and when he followed it untied itself from the dock and began to row itself toward the house. Draco's broomstick fell onto the wooden seats with a sharp noise, and he flinched. The wolf looked at him disapprovingly.

By the time they reached the house, everyone was thoroughly soaked. Vonyella was unperturbed by the weather, but the cold water trickling down his spine left Draco struggling not to shiver. She waited impatiently for him at the gates, and he said into the keyhole, "The dragon has returned," to open them. Kyrin was looking at him suspiciously the whole time, as if he was trying to trick them.

Ellie did not share her wolf's distrust and walked briskly up to the door of the house, magically swinging it open before she got there. She stopped mid-step in the foyer, and Kyrin's hackles raised immediately. If Draco could have asked what was wrong he would have, but Vonyella read his thoughts before he needed to. "This house reeks of death, Draco, what have you done?"

He reached into his pocket to pull out the notepad, but it was completely sodden. Instead he traced the word in the air with a finger. _Horcruxes._ A shiver ran up her spine, and she pulled the hood of her cloak down over her face as if to hide herself. "Show me to my room," she said at last.

Draco didn't need to call for a house elf to know which room they had prepared for her. They wandered down the halls, Kyrin scouting a bit ahead of them, and left a large trail of water in their wake. Vonyella's heels clicked out a rhythm on the wooden floor, and Draco wondered at why she had been wearing high heels in the forest. Then again, he was certain that she would never make sense to him.

The door to Ellie's room had no knob, but it opened when Draco pressed his palm flat against it. Kyrin looked at him warily and then forced himself into the room before Vonyella. The stupid animal irritated Draco with its suspicious manner, and he fought the urge to give it a swift kick. Ellie walked into the dark room calmly, twitching her fingers to light the candles as she entered.

Vonyella looked at him solemnly. "Thank you."

He stood uncertainly. "I'm—" he began, then sighed. He kept forgetting about Hermione's contract. Ellie approached him and placed her fingers across his forehead; her skin was freezing and it sent chills down his spine. She closed her eyes as if concentrating, then moved her hand away and leaned forward to give him a kiss. She held it far longer than was proper, and her lips tingled against his. He was too shocked to protest. "Speak," she said, pulling away.

At first all he could do was laugh nervously, but then he said, "I guess I should go to bed…what did you do?"

She gave him a slow, clandestine smile. "Nothing."

"Oh yes you did," he said, growing slightly frantic. "You took away the effects of Granger's contract. How?"

"Why do you always ask me _how _I do things? You know I cannot explain it," she said, pouting. "Just leave me be, I'll see you in the morning. Kyrin and I need our rest." The wolf growled in agreement.

Draco turned to leave, but Ellie grabbed his arm and pulled him back into a passionate kiss. He pulled away, startled, and Vonyella smirked at him, then turned her back and began undressing. Taking this as a dismissal, he turned to leave…

Hermione was standing in the doorway.

His heart plummeted into his stomach. Draco turned to yell at Vonyella, but the only words that came out were, "I'm sorry!" Half naked, she looked at him and smirked even wider.

He ran out into the hall and chased after Granger, but at the first corner she turned he slid in the slick trail of water he and Ellie had left on their entrance. Draco hit the floor and everything went dark.

* * *

The first thing he knew, he had a splitting headache. The next thing he noticed was that he was cold straight down to his bones. He shivered and pulled the blankets up closer to his chin in an effort to warm himself.

It was when he heard the unmistakable sound of fingernails drumming against wood that he remembered. Draco muffled a groan with the blankets, but wasn't surprised to hear Granger's voice briskly say, "You're up." She paused, and then: "Do you want some water?"

Draco nodded his head and heard the creak of a chair as she got up, followed by the splash of water. A glass hovered in his vision and he reluctantly sat up to drink it. He tried to say something, but her contract bound him and he gritted his teeth so the words wouldn't come out.

He mimicked writing something and she unceremoniously dumped a pile of parchment (which instantly scattered across the blankets) and a self-inking quill before him.

_I broke the contract._

"Yes, I noticed," she snapped.

Draco looked up at her, but she turned away so he couldn't see her expression. He turned back to the parchment and wrote: _I want to talk to you._

She scowled, and grudgingly pulled a small roll of parchment from her pocket. She went to sit at a desk on the far side of the room and tapped the paper with his wand. Draco practically felt the restrictions being lifted from him; it was as if the world had become brighter.

"Tildan brought dry clothes for you. They're on the chair," she said, gesturing over her shoulder at a seat by the bed.

He pulled himself out of bed and changed, then finally approached the desk where she sat. "Granger, what you saw—"

"_That's _what you think I'm angry about?" she snarled.

Draco hesitated, then began, "Well…"

Hermione cut him off. "You broke the contract."

"But—"

"There aren't any excuses, _Malfoy_." She spat his name. "If you couldn't tell me when you were leaving, why bother telling me now?" He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him the chance. "Harry, Ron and I will leave in the morning."

Her words made him ache with guilt. "It's not what you think, Granger."

She stood up and began walking to the door. "Goodbye, Malfoy."

For a long moment he stood there, stunned. She was leaving. And then a spark of anger surged up inside of him, freeing him from his paralysis. Draco grabbed his wand off the desk and shot off a spell. The door slammed closed just before Hermione could reach it. She turned and glared at him. "Open the door."

"No," he said, striding across the room. She backed up a couple steps before her fury consumed her as well and she stood her ground defiantly, meeting him with the fieriest gaze he'd ever seen. Whatever half-formed plans had been running through his head stopped dead still and vanished and he was as surprised as she was when he grabbed her into a harsh embrace and kissed her.

Hermione stepped back, a flush rising in her cheeks and she said, "What do you think you're doing?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I have no idea," he said honestly, bending down and kissing her again. She returned the kiss, trembling in his arms, and he pulled back and looked at her in alarm. Whatever semblance of calm she'd been holding onto fell apart, and he could see the anguish and hurt scrawled across her face. "You're just making things worse," she stammered. He heard her try to turn the doorknob behind her back, but it would not budge.

Draco reached out for her again, gently this time, and pulled her into closed position. She opened her mouth to say something, her look incredulous, but he hushed her as he led her in a box step. Her mouth closed with a clicking noise as she tried to keep up with the unfamiliar steps. He watched as she lost herself in the dance, staring at their feet in order to keep up with him.

When at last she grew comfortable with the steps, she looked up at him with a small smile on her face. The expression quickly fell, as she remembered that she was supposed to be mad at him. Her feet faltered and she ended up stepping on his toes in her effort to keep up. The moment was ruined.

"I should go," she said.

"Can I at least explain?" he said as calmly as possible.

"No," she said. Hermione released his hand and his shoulder, going to the door once more.

"Hermione…" he said. She stopped stock-still. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

With that, she left. Draco looked around the empty room and finally clambered onto the bed and lay there looking at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

* * *

"And where do you think you're going?"

Hermione turned on her heel. The voice was unfamiliar but she didn't have to look to know who was speaking. "My friends and I are leaving," she coldly informed the girl.

"I don't think so," the other girl said with a wide smirk.

There was something weird about her that Hermione couldn't quite place her finger on. She scoffed, "What makes you think that?"

"I wanted to give you the opportunity to forgive him on your own, but your head is so filled with petty desires…" the girl shook her head, mock pity written all over her face.

"Petty desires?" Hermione snapped. "We were all supposed to work together on this. If he can't include us in his plans then I'm not sure we can trust him."

"You need him."

"I do not!" Hermione said quickly.

The blonde girl laughed, a genuine laugh that made the hair on Hermione's arms prickle. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. If you truly want to destroy those Horcruxes, you need Draco's help. But of course your mind immediately goes to more…personal things."

Hermione scowled threateningly at her. "That wasn't what I meant."

"You can lie to me, but don't lie to yourself. Go talk to him."

She turned to leave, planning on ignoring the other girl completely, but a wolf, its teeth bared dangerously, blocked her way. Hermione turned back to the blonde girl but she was gone. The wolf herded her back to Malfoy's room. Hermione desperately wished that she had her wand.

The door was unlocked, just as she'd left it, so she walked in. Malfoy was asleep on the bed, his knees tucked up to his chest and his arms wrapped around a pillow. He looked so vulnerable that Hermione's anger dissipated. She conjured another blanket and put it over him, then crawled onto the other side of the bed and lay down, watching him. She fell asleep quickly.

* * *

There was a note from Vonyella beside Draco's head when he woke up. Hermione was sleeping on the other side of the bed, which he thought odd. He covered her with the blanket that he found on top of himself and read the note:

_I won't make her stay a second time, dearest brother, so you had best find some way to convince her __other __than whatever you tried last night._

Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Even if Granger stayed, he worried that Ellie had already screwed up any chance he had with her. But as he sat there, watching her sleep, he realized that he needed her more than he'd ever needed anything. He needed to convince her to stay.

* * *

_Go on just say it_

_You need me like a bad habit,_

_One that leaves you defenseless, dependent, and alone_

--Taking Back Sunday, "One-Eighty By Summer"


	15. Vonyella Malfoy

I'm afraid to say that I'm officially putting this story on hiatus for a while (though it's already been on hiatus for a long time). I will probably continue eventually, but for now I'm working on something else that's taking up my time. It will be grand, it will be fantastic!—and it's been in the works for four years now and is almost ready to be published. But Smeghead, if you're still reading—this is for you.

Chapter 15: Vonyella Malfoy

Hermione woke up slowly, dreading what she was going to find. The last night was a blur of anger and she wasn't sure she wanted to remember what had happened. She recalled Draco kissing another girl. And dancing…

"You're awake," his voice said softly. "The elves brought food."

What he handed her was a blueberry muffin. It brought back memories of standing on a rooftop with him, thanking him for a laugh. She remembered when he'd protected her from his father. Images of Draco, lying pale on the bed while he requested that she leave his side to get him blueberry muffins flooded her mind. How cruel that he could remind her of times when she didn't hate him simply by handing her a muffin.

"Thank you," she said finally.

Then he handed her a cup of tea, and she remembered him distracting her during a storm. It seemed impossible to believe that she had been intending to leave today.

But he had kissed another girl.

And he had kissed her.

Hermione frowned while she chewed her muffin, suddenly confused and unsure.

Malfoy put the tray of food in the middle of the bed then stretched out on the other side. "It's a long story," he warned her. "Are you ready?"

She wanted to say no, but in the end nodded.

He sighed, then plunged into his tale. "I was not born an only child. In fact, I shouldn't be the Malfoy heir at all. My older sister should have the title, but…" he stopped, couldn't find the words. "Bugger, you're going to think I'm crazy." Draco ran his hands through his hair. "This is all her fault.

"My sister is the most powerful witch in the world. More powerful than Dumbledore was, more powerful than Grindelwald, probably as powerful as Merlin was, maybe more. No one knows that she exists. Oh, I suspect Dumbledore had an idea, but he never spoke to me about it and I doubt he ever figured out where she was. When Mum and Dad wanted her to join the Death Eaters she vanished, and took away everyone's memories of her.

"Merlin, you must think I'm crazy," he said. Malfoy refused to look at her, probably because he thought she would reject him. She would have, his story was ridiculous. "I'm serious, though. My sister, Vonyella, is that powerful. She erased herself from the memory of everyone except me. Any record of her life vanished, and she went into the forest to live by herself. She is a Seer—kind of. She dreams true, which was why she refused to join the Death Eaters. She saw…things…" he tried to muffle a shudder, but she saw.

"That was when she was ten, before she had time to start school or anything. The Dark Lord wouldn't normally let people join the Death Eaters that young, but my sister was special. She would have become his right hand immediately. He would have actually given her Aunt Bella's place." Draco shook his head. "I can't imagine any of this means anything to you."

"Not really."

"My sister has lived alone, without human contact besides me, for ten years now. Even so, she is the most powerful witch of our age. Even more powerful than you. I think she can help destroy the Horcruxes. I didn't tell you that I was going to get her though, because I was worried that she would say no, refuse to have any part in this. She hasn't left the safety of her forest in ten years, why should she now?"

Hermione was confused. "Are you trying to tell me that I saw you kissing your sister last night? Because I'm not going to believe that," she said dubiously. "And how can a person that powerful hide from the whole wizarding community?"

"It's _because _she's that powerful, Granger." He paused, "And yes, you saw her kissing me. It's something she does, with her magic. She gets mad at me every time I ask her to explain, but I gather that when she kisses someone she…for her, it's sort of like legilimency, but more powerful than that. When my sister kisses someone she can see what they've done and what they've felt. She can see their entire past and many of their futures."

He could see the suspicion in her face. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm being serious here. Imagine if you were never told that people write with their hands and you had to figure out how to do it on your own. Perhaps you would end up writing with your feet, or with the quill clenched between your teeth. She left before she got her Hogwarts letter. There's been no one to teach her the 'proper' way to do magic, so she does it all her own way.

"Besides that, she doesn't understand…social boundaries. It's unnerving when she does that, and impossible to separate yourself from it until she draws away. I'm more surprised she didn't kiss you." Malfoy shook his head, brushed the hair back from his face and added, "And I think she was trying to see how you would react."

"I see," Hermione said slowly, even though she didn't.

He seemed to see the distrust in her eyes, because he got off the bed and said, "Come, you should meet her. You'll see."

As they walked down the halls, Hermione asked, "If she left when she was ten, that means she never went to school, right?"

"Right…"

"So how does she manage to control her magic?" She remembered how it was before she got her Hogwarts letter, things flying into her hands uncontrollably, a shattered vase that she'd knocked over repairing itself. Hermione couldn't imagine being able to control her abilities without her wand and the incantations.

Malfoy laughed. "She doesn't, not always." He looked at her sidelong, his expression hardening when he saw the doubt on her face. "You didn't grow up as a Malfoy, you wouldn't understand. She can handle herself."

That prickled at Hermione's ire, and she opened her mouth to shoot back an angry response when there was a sudden _whoosh _of air and suddenly she and Malfoy stood in the room where she had seen him kiss the other girl last night. The girl with white-blond hair sat on the floor in front of the fireplace calmly, stroking the head of her wolf. "Ellie, I told you to stop doing that," Malfoy said angrily, taking a step towards her.

"You were taking too long," she said simply, scratching the wolf's neck as it stood up. She rose to her feet gracefully and turned to greet them. Now that Hermione saw her again, she could see the Malfoy characteristics on her face and she thought that maybe Draco had been telling the truth.

Malfoy scratched his head in frustration, then said, "Vonyella, this is Hermione."

"We met," she said coolly. "This is the witch you think is better than me?"

"Come on, Ellie, I didn't say that," he growled.

She smirked in the exact same way Malfoy did. "But you meant it."

His cheeks flushed pink, and he said, "She's better at controlling herself."

Vonyella's smirk vanished, replaced with a scowl Hermione had seen all too often on Malfoy. That was the moment when she decided that she believed his story about her being his sister, but with her belief came her certainty that she could never be with him. He simply wasn't right for her. Hermione was lost in her thoughts when Malfoy reached out and touched her arm. His face showed some slight concern; she pulled her arm away from him and said, "Sorry, what?"

"Weren't you listening?" he asked in surprise.

"No…" she said slowly. "Why?"

Malfoy turned back to his sister. "Don't you dare, Ellie."

She smirked once more. "I challenged you to a duel," she said.

Malfoy scowled, and Hermione frowned. "I don't have a wand," she said.

"What?" Draco asked, swinging around to stare at her.

"The Death Eaters took it from me, I never got it back," Hermione said. "I haven't done magic since—"

His eyes, as silver as the knife, his smirk as the blade slid through her skin…

The next thing Hermione knew, she was lying in bed in a room she had grown familiar with. She could almost feel the Vigoratius Stone helping to heal her wounds, and thought bitterly that it couldn't heal the emotional scars. "I'm sorry," Vonyella said sadly from the foot of the bed. "I didn't mean to bring up such memories."

Hermione shuddered and drew the blankets up to her chin, keeping her back to the Malfoy. She had been fine for days, not realizing that she had shielded herself in a bubble, forcing herself to forget what had happened to her. Yet now the bubble was gone, and she felt nauseated, weak and uncertain. "If I may…" Hermione felt the bed move as Vonyella got up.

The blonde witch walked to the other side of the bed where Hermione had to look at her and shoved something into her palm; Hermione's fingers curled reflexively around it. She opened her hand and saw an oval shaped locket. Curious, she opened it up, but there was nothing inside. Vonyella knelt on the floor beside the bed, putting her face at Hermione's level. "This won't hurt," she promised, and placed cold fingertips to Hermione's temples, then leaned up to kiss her.

An intense calm filled Hermione. The world stopped. She was drowning. Flowers were blooming…

Hermione saw herself sitting on a blanket on a grassy bank, watching as children gamboled in the shallow river below her. She was grinning broadly and laughing as Harry, Ron, and Draco played with the children. Draco tossed a blonde girl high in the air and caught her as she squealed with delight. Ron's two redheaded boys were wrestling with him, trying to dunk him under the water. Harry, a shy girl half-hiding behind his leg, hailed her. "Hermione!" he yelled, "Come on!"

She smiled and shook her head, and Harry knelt down to whisper to his daughter. Her shyness vanished as she grinned and went to help Ron's sons. Draco seemed to catch on and put down his daughter to play with the other children and he and Harry shared a look. Hermione shot to her feet, groaning, "No!" as the boys started up the embankment towards her.

Hermione ran, laughing, until they caught her at last and dragged her down towards the water, ignoring her protests that she was wearing a new sundress. The children, all four of them, immediately converged upon her, and she was soon as wet and muddy as the rest of them.

That was when the scene went cold. Everyone stopped their playing, and the three boys shoved Hermione and the children behind them. "Run," Harry said desperately. Draco gave her a stricken look, and Ron was making sure his boys knew to listen to Hermione. Her three boys…she couldn't leave them…but one look at the face of Harry's shy daughter made up her mind.

The Death Eaters were coming into view, too many to count. None of them stood a chance, but Hermione had to at least try to get the children to safety…

"Hermione! Bloody hell…fuck! Ellie, what did you do to her?"

Malfoy's face was looking down on her, showing the same stricken look she had just witnessed in the vision. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I—I think so," she said. She could feel her body trembling. "What was that?" she addressed Vonyella, who was sitting wearily in a chair.

"An accident," Vonyella said raggedly.

"No, I mean—"

"It's nothing but a possibility, Hermione," Vonyella told her gently. As Hermione watched, the color came back into the young woman's cheeks, and with it came a mask of indifference. "Here," she handed her the oval locket.

"What's this?" Hermione asked.

"It…" Ellie paused. "It's your feelings." Hermione's heart hammered in her chest and she looked at the locket with wide eyes. Where before the surface had been smooth, a dragon was now etched on one side. "No, not all of them," Vonyella reassured her. "Just the ones connected to…recent events. When you're ready to deal with them, all you need to do is break the locket. They will come back slowly, after that. At a pace you can handle." Hermione twisted the chain of the locket between her fingers and the oval rotated slowly to show the dragon's tail wrapped around a dagger on the back of it. She shuddered, but Ellie was right…all her feelings about that night were gone. She remembered everything, but the images didn't bring revulsion and terror anymore.

"Thank you," she said softly, looping the locket around her neck.

"If that's all you did, then why was she having a seizure, Ellie?" Malfoy demanded. Hermione had forgotten that he was there.

"She triggered a vision," Ellie said dismissively. "She wasn't ready for it and neither was I."

Malfoy's mouth was an angry white line, but at last he exhaled and shook his head. "Don't let it happen again."

Vonyella looked at Hermione, considering, but didn't respond. Hermione was still shaking, but was slowly calming down. "Does it mean we won't win?" she asked Ellie quietly.

With utter certainty, Ellie said, "It will never happen. You won't give up until the Dark Lord is dead. Ignore it." Her gaze turned to her brother and she cocked her head to the side. "Your daughter was beautiful," she commented. "I've never seen her before."

"Daughter?" he asked, his voice catching in his throat. Hermione looked at him questioningly, but an expression of indifference fell over his features before she could figure out what he felt.

"Anyway, we should go take care of those Horcruxes," Ellie said, rising from the chair.

Malfoy stood up and offered Hermione his hand. She took it reluctantly and he helped her to her feet. He tried to catch her eye but she looked away and instead followed Vonyella to the hall. Malfoy tried to ask her something, but she pretended not to hear and began to walk back to the rest of the house when she stopped suddenly. "Aren't only Malfoys allowed to walk down this hall?"

Draco coughed discreetly behind her, but Vonyella kept going, calling over her shoulder, "You're not walking in the hall."

Hermione looked down at the ground, her knees suddenly turning to water as she realized she was walking almost a foot off the floor. It had been fine when she didn't know she wasn't walking on solid ground, but now she was incredibly nervous, and wondered what would happen to her if Ellie's spell broke and what if she was too heavy for the invisible surface and what if…

Numb with fear, she was actually relieved when she felt Malfoy cautiously wrap his arms around her and pick her up. He carried her to the end of the hall, while Ellie looked on curiously. None of them spoke of it while they walked to the library.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled when she walked into the library. She smiled uncertainly at him, remembering his two sons. Harry stood behind Ron, a somewhat guilty look on his face, but he grinned when he saw her. "Where have you been?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head with a shrug. Images of the children flashed in front of her eyes, and she couldn't help but sneak a glance at each of the boys from under her lashes. Had any of the children been hers? Certainly Harry's wasn't, but…she stopped herself from thinking any further. Vonyella had said the vision would not come true, so it would be best not to dwell upon it.

Ellie glided smoothly over to the table in the center of the library, where the two Horcruxes sat ominously. Her skin was even paler than usual, and she stood staring at the innocuous objects. "Who's she?" Ron retorted.

"My sister," Malfoy replied coolly, moving to stand beside her. "Do you have a problem with that, Weasley?"

Ron looked suspicious. "You're an only child."

Malfoy smirked at him but didn't answer. Quite abruptly, Ellie closed her eyes, the room _wiggled _(there was no other way to describe it) and the two Malfoys vanished.

"What was that?" Harry gasped, alarmed.

Hermione was holding onto the table to steady herself and murmured, "She's very powerful, and apparently doesn't always have control of her powers. I'm sure they will be back. In the meantime…" she cast a significant look at the stacks of books on the table and sat, pulling one towards her to continue studying. Ron and Harry groaned but followed suit. They tried to ask her about Vonyella, but it was difficult to answer their questions, as she knew very little herself.

* * *

Draco was silent when he and Ellie appeared in her room, but he knew that she could feel his anger. "I've asked you to stop doing that," he growled at last, when the silence grew prolonged.

"I won't get in the middle of this," Ellie said firmly.

"What do you mean?"

"I will help, this time, because I'm already here, but I can't help bring down Lord Voldemort. Any other Horcruxes, you five will have to find a way to destroy them on your own."

"Five?"

"I meant four," she said exasperatedly.

Draco ran his hands through his hair and gave Ellie an assessing look. "All right," he said at last. "Are we going back now?"

Ellie smirked at him. "Just one last thing, dear brother. What exactly are you playing at?"

He stilled, and made sure to show no emotion as he politely asked, "What do you mean, Ellie?"

Her smirk widened. "I saw your thoughts last night, Draco. Very strange ideas you have in there. What is your ultimate goal?"

"To keep the four people that actually give a damn about me alive through all this," he said honestly. "Through any means possible."

"Be careful you don't presume too much," Ellie cautioned him.

Draco scowled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The look of knowing in her eyes chilled him to his bones. "Do you not know of all the horrors that go on outside of the precious little world you have built?" When he said nothing she examined her fingernails, then added, "Besides, more than four people care about you. Perhaps you should have said the only four people you care about."

He winced. The reminder that so few people inspired his trust and loyalty bit deep, as it always had. Through years at school watching people make friends, giving their trust and loyalty as easily as they received it from others, Draco had always wondered what was wrong with him that he could not find it in himself to give his friends the same honors they bestowed upon him.

Ellie moved forward and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, then the world swam once more and they were back in the library. He turned quickly so that the Golden Trio could not see the unease on his face and calmed himself before turning back and approaching the table where Ellie stood. The Horcruxes sat on the table before her, and as he watched she reached out to touch one and recoiled as if burned.

Draco walked towards his sister and put a hand to her shoulder. He himself had not touched the Horcruxes yet, since Harry kept them in his trunk. She looked at him nervously and then took a deep breath and held a hand out toward the Horcruxes, close enough to feel the weave of the spell, but not so close as to touch them. Curious, Draco did the same.

It was as he expected. The spell felt dark, and muffled like velvet, with the heavy stickiness of a blood price. A shiver ran down his back before he could stop it, and he reached closer to the Horcrux, trying to figure out how to unravel the spell. The spell was tight, as binding spells often were, but a few frayed edges trailed off…the cup was wrought much better than Ravenclaw's seal was, so he guessed the seal was the earlier artifact.

"What are they—"

Hermione shushed Weasley, and the room filled with silence once more. Ellie leaned over and sniffed at Potter. "I need your help moving this," she said, pointing at the cup. The blonde blinked, and a ripple passed through the room. Suddenly there was an annex directly behind where Hermione was standing. "Take it over there," Vonyella demanded.

Potter slowly moved to execute her orders, and she turned to the wolf beside her. "My chalk," she told him. "And the ashes and the dust, please," then she placed her hand on his head and the creature was gone with a _crack_.

Once the cup was in the new part of the room, Ellie walked around it a few times. Then, "Flip it up-side-down." Potter obliged, and she nodded. A flash of grey entered the room, and when it stopped beside Ellie it became the damned wolf again. Merlin, but he hated those things. Why Ellie kept those abominations around was beyond him.

The wolf had two drawstring pouches in its mouth, as well as a white hunk of chalk. Ellie put the chalk and one of the bags on the table and then took the other bag and opened it up then paused, looking curiously at the cup. "Pick it up," she told Potter. He did so, and she threw a generous amount of dust from the bag under the cup. Indicating that he should put the cup back down, she then shooed Potter away and filled the dip in the base with dust.

Ellie stopped and looked at everything, then reached back into the bag and began laying out the dust in tight spiraling patterns around it. When she finished, she carefully leaned over and dumped the rest of the bag out on top of the cup. She held out her hand and the wolf retrieved her chalk and dropped it into her palm. Ellie frowned at everything she had done and then began making new lines in chalk between and through the spirals. Snapping her fingers, the chalk changed color, and she drew in new things, expanding outward from the cup's position.

Draco had never been privy to so much of Ellie's before, and he watched curiously, trying to feel the weave of what she was putting together. Potter and Weasley had dropped into chairs and were staring dubiously at the whole affair while Hermione leaned against a table and watched in fascination. Draco went to lean against the table next to her. She didn't even look up at him.

In a three foot radius around the cup, Ellie drew a circle to contain all of the drawings she had made. She spat at one point in the circle, retrieving the bag she had emptied and scraping out a final bit of dust to put in the spot of saliva. Clicking her tongue to change the color of the chalk, she began working a second circle around the contained area with the second bag the wolf had brought.

Vonyella worked thusly for some time. It was hard to Draco to figure out what she was doing. He could usually feel spells, it was something that he'd practiced from a young age, but Ellie's unusual methods made it almost impossible. What he _did _know was that the bags her wolf had brought were dark and heavy with death. He was pretty the dust was ground-up bones and the ashes were the remains of some creature's flesh. What type of creature, he didn't even want to ask.

"What is she doing?" Hermione asked, finally glancing at him. Ellie had drawn a second circle six feet out from the cup, containing everything she had drawn to that point. She spat in the circle as she had before, exactly in line with the other spot and the cup, then poured the last of the ashes onto her saliva.

"You are asking the wrong person," Draco chuckled. That brought a small smile to her face and his shoulders relaxed a little. He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in them until that moment. Ellie snapped her fingers, changing the color of the chalk, and drew two more circles around the whole thing. Standing, she set the chalk on the ground and then wiped her hands on her clothes. Approaching Draco, she leaned against the table next to him.

"Death to counter death, unravelling to unbind, bright to oppose the dark...and yet I'm missing something."

"After all that, it's not enough?" Draco asked. Hermione had cocked her head to the side, listening to their conversation curiously.

"I'm missing something..." Ellie made a soft noise and fixed her eyes on Potter, then wafted over to him and bent over to kiss him. "I need your blood," she announced as she pulled away.

"What?" he asked stupidly. Weasley was glaring at Ellie, who didn't even notice.

"If you want me to destroy it, I need your blood. The man who made that cup attempted to kill you and failed and now you're the only one who can kill him. You _do _understand what a Horcrux is, right? By destroying this, we kill a piece of his soul and it needs to be done by you. Therefore, I need your blood. Draco, if you would, a knife and bowl from the kitchen while I fix this." She picked her chalk back up and went over to the spell on the floor.

Draco left to get the items she requested and when he came back, Ellie had erased the outermost two circles. Without ado, Harry took the offered knife and drew it across his palm. "How much do you need?" he asked, holding the bleeding hand over the cup.

"For both of them?" Draco's sister paused. "A cup or so. If you fill the bowl halfway we should be fine."

"I don't like this," Weasley grumbled.

Hermione moved to lean against the table next to him. "We don't have much choice, we don't know of any other way to do it," Hermione pointed out. "Plus, it makes sense. The prophecy says only Harry can kill him."

"Yeah, but Dumbledore did the ring without Harry's blood," Ron whispered back.

"Dumbledore was a very practiced and conventional wizard. And old. And you saw what it did to his hand to do it, it wasn't like it was an easy thing for him. She's not asking for a lot of blood, and I say if Ellie can destroy these two for us with only that much, it's worth it. Harry seems to agree."

"Blood is powerful," Weasley muttered. "I don't like the thought of Harry bleeding for anyone."

Draco was inclined to agree, but he knew his sister...sort of. He was reasonably sure she wouldn't do anything _bad _with Potter's blood, she may at most violate his privacy through it. When she was done, he would make sure he got rid of the rest of Potter's blood before she could get her hands on it. Hermione would probably blame him for any harm that came to Potter because of his sister. If only he could make her understand.

Now armed with Potter's blood, Ellie outlined the outer circle in blood, then picked up her chalk, drew a new circle outside of the blood, ringed that circle in Potter's blood, and finally chalked in a thick circle around the whole thing. In each circle she drew except the last, she spat, still in line with the other spots of saliva, this time mixing Potter's blood into her spit. Stepping back, she wiped her hands on her clothes again, leaving bloody smears.

Tearing a small strip off her shirt, she used it as a barrier between her skin and Ravenclaw's seal as she picked it up off the table. Her complexion greyed a little at even that much proximity to the object, but she returned to her drawing gracefully. "Ready?" she asked the room, though her back was to everyone.

Before anyone could answer, Ellie tossed the seal into the circle and brought her hands together with a sharp _clap!_

Lightning forked out of nowhere to strike the Horcruxes and the room exploded with light as it hit. Draco could hear an unbearable shrieking as well as the electric clash of lightning as another bolt landed in Ellie's circle. Heat was emanating from the place where Ellie had performed her magic in ever-hotter waves and Draco knew lightning was still coming. Over the deafening noise in the room, Draco couldn't tell if the shrieking was still there, but he worried that it may have been Hermione.

He blundered in the direction she had been, hoping against hope that she was safe. When he finally touched her arm he felt her shaking, and quickly swept her up into his arms, putting his body between her and whatever Ellie had unleashed. Draco put both his hands firmly over Hermione's ears and she buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around, him holding tight.

Draco tucked Hermione's head under his chin and shut his eyes against the storm in the room. His back felt like it was on fire from the magic behind him, but it hardly mattered. He was just relieved Hermione was safe.

* * *

_Being with you,_

_Is so dysfunctional._

_I really shouldn't miss you,_

_But I can't let you go._

–Kelly Clarkson, "My Life Would Suck Without You"


End file.
